


The Mage's Assassin

by GarnetSeren



Series: Red Haired Mages Saga [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2018-07-26 21:38:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 87
Words: 106,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7591357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GarnetSeren/pseuds/GarnetSeren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The long road was only the beginning. What does fate have in store for (f)Amell and Zevran after their initial, somewhat unorthodox, encounter? What significance does their meeting have on their lives, their companions, and their quest to stop the Blight? Only the Maker knows... </p><p>Alternating PoV between Amell & Zevran. FYI written in UK English, not US.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Long Road (Amell PoV)

' _What a sight we must be!'_  
  
Solona couldn't help smiling to herself, as she drudged along the rutted earthen road, with three of her travelling companions. She knew full well what the men thought of four women making the scouting party, but as she pointed out to Alistair and Sten, Bodahn and Sandal were prime targets for bandits... bandits who would certainly think twice, about robbing a merchant's wagon that had a warrior, a mabari and a behemoth of a Qunari guarding it. Which left herself, Wynne, Morrigan and Leliana scouting the roads... and what a sight that must be, considering how they were attired. Morrigan's incredibly revealing purple linen top left little to the imagination, her own Archon Robes were barely made modest, by thigh high boots and a wolf skin shrug, and even Leliana's leather armour gave an eyeful of cleavage. Only Wynne looked respectable, clad in her Circle robes, and Solona often wondered if it was only her advanced years, that held the older mage back. A chuckle escaped her without warning, which earned her a scowl from Morrigan.

"What on earth are you laughing for?" she demanded, her toned clipped as usual.

"I was thinking, my dear witch, that if it wasn't for Wynne, other travellers might take use for ladies of negotiable affection," Solona grinned.

The raven haired witch's purple lips twitched. "You have a point, Amell," she conceded.

Before anymore could be said, they were halted in their tracks, as an ashen haired woman literally barrelled into Solona.  
  
"Oh, thank the maker," the woman panted. "We need help, they attack the wagon. Please, help us."

"Or… people could take us for soft touches," Morrigan stated, dryly.

"Sol, we must help them," Leliana argued, her accented voice gently pleading.

With a sigh, Solona's shoulders sagged, as she nodded her head in agreement. It wasn't that she didn't want to help the woman, but ever since she had left the Circle Tower to become a Grey Warden, there had been on thing after another. Just once, Solona wanted their travelling to go smoothly... instead of some bandit, assassin or darkspawn brawl happening. However, the Maker never heeded her wish.

"Follow me, I'll take you to them," the woman said, quickly setting off further up the path.

"At least it's the direction we were going in," Solona stated, catching Morrigan's eye.

"For a change," the witch scoffed.

A few minutes jog brought them the sight of an over turned wagon, it's poor oxen slain. As Solona scanned the scene, a man caught her eye... bronzed skin and golden hair. To say he was handsome was an understatement, though something had set her sixth sense ringing alarm bells.  
  
"Be on your guard," she warned, her voice barely above a whisper.  
  
Slowly, Solona unslung her Ash longbow. Because being an accomplished Mage, didn't mean she was a one trick pony... and something she prided herself on, since leaving the tower, was how quickly she had mastered the bow. The woman they had been following nodded to the man, and Solona heard the faint beginnings of an ominous creak, causing her to subtly shift her feet into a battle ready stance. The man moved closer, allowing her to see the curving tattoo across the left side of his face, before she noticed his ears. He wasn't a man, but an elf. His mouth pulled into an arrogant smirk, and he raised his hand in a nonchalant manner. At the signal, dozens of armour clad bandits emerged from the surroundings.

"And this is why we shouldn't help strangers," Morrigan muttered.

As Solona was about to reply, the creaking got louder, and at the same time she heard Wynne shout out a warning. On instinct, she leapt out of the way of a falling tree _,_ mentally cursing the elf as she did.

"The Grey Warden dies here!" he proclaimed.

' _Not a chance!'_  
  
Scrambling to her feet, Solona unleashed a powerful Winter's Grasp spell, directing it at the elf. She was only vaguely aware that Wynne and Morrigan had the same idea, whilst Leliana let out a fierce battle cry, one that Solona knew would herald the rest of their companions arrival. Though hopefully, they wouldn't need their help.

 

 


	2. Awakening (Zevran PoV)

The first thing Zevran noticed, and it came as some surprise, was that he was breathing. Granted, it was hardly an easy affair, but still… it meant he was alive, though he had yet to decide if that was a good thing. The next thing he was aware of, was what felt like the toe of a steal boot, pushing him to roll over onto his back. And it was a push, hardly gentle, but it certainly wasn't a kick. That was also surprising.

"I think this one's still alive," said the voice, that presumable belonged to the boot.

With his eyes still refusing to open, Zevran had to rely on his ears. Unfortunately, all they were telling him, was that the voice was male. Which didn't seem to add up, because the four he had attacked were all women... and what shapely, good looking women they had been as well.

"Kill him," another voice stated gruffly.   
  
This was again a male voice, harsh and slightly accented, which made Zevran wonder if it was Qunari. Though perhaps he should have been more concerned with the words, than the voice... however, he was still unsure as to whether being alive was a good thing or not. The pain that radiated from his chest and back were firmly in the 'no' camp.

"A good idea. I could set him alight, if you like?"   
  
That voice was female, and sounded as if it was smiling at the idea. If it didn't hurt so much to move, Zevran might have shuddered. Burning alive was _not_ high up his preferred methods to die.

"No!" gasped another female voice. "That is not right. Even though he attacked us, we should be merciful."   
  
The voice was slightly sweet and young sounding, as well as heavily accented. She sounded Orlesian, though Zevran couldn't be sure, due to the ringing in his ears. Regardless, he rather liked that voice.   
  
"If we are to kill him, we should grant it quickly. Minimise his suffering."   
  
Or not... Since he was starting to think living might be the preferred option, despite the pain.

"Whatever you want to do, you should do it soon," said the first voice. "This stab wound looks pretty nasty, it may have punctured a lung."

Well, that would certainly explain the burning pain in his chest, and why it was so hard to breath. As he was mulling that revelation over, Zevran heard a small sigh. It sounded feminine.   
  
"Leli, will you bind his hands?” a new voice said. “Preferably behind his back, if you can do it without causing more damage to his chest."

"If you are sure," the Orlesian voice replied, hesitantly.

Within seconds, Zevran found himself being rolled onto his other side, the one without the stab wound. It was a push, not a shove. Once again surprising. Then his wrists were seized, and he felt rough rope being wounded around them. A small part of him started to panic, though he wasn't inclined to fight... in truth, he doubted he had the energy to do so. The pain certainly wasn't allowing him to put up any resistance, and really, it wasn't the first time he had been truss up in such a manner. All he could offer was a grunt of agony, as he found a new injury. If the new pain was anything to go by, it seemed his left shoulder was quite possibly dislocated. Once his captor had finished binding him, he was then pushed back onto his back again. He heard the sound of light footsteps, before he felt a small hand press onto his injured joint. Zevran bit back a whimper, determined not to show weakness. After all, the Crows taught him to never show emotion, especially to the enemy... it only gave them an advantage. However, the owner of the hand seemed to sense his distress, for the pressure on his shoulder lessened.

"I'm going to heal you, then you're going to answer some questions. Understand?"   
  
That was the voice that had asked for him to be bound, the tone was soft and gentle, almost reassuring... which was ridiculous. Both the words and the tone surprised Zevran so much, that he managed to crack his eyes open for a moment, before clamping them shut again. The light sent spears of pain stabbing into his brain. He let out an involuntary hiss, before feeling warm hands on either side of his head, lifting it up. A slither of panic began to mount in him, as he felt a trickle of blood run down that back of his neck, alerting him to a probably fracture in his skull... which would explain the ringing. For one awful moment, Zevran worried that the hands that help him, intended on making his injury worse, before the soft voice said:

"Hold still, this will numb the pain a little.”

"What is the point? Torture gets answers quicker," the Qunari sounding voice stated.

"I'm not a fan of torture, but is he really worth healing? He _did_ just try to kill you," said the very first voice.

"I am forced to agree," said a new voice. This was another woman, but sounded older than the rest. "It is not wise to waste your mana needlessly."   
  
As with the previous two, Zevran decided he didn't like that voice either, since he thought stopping him dying wasn't needless... though that may have been bias. To him, it was very much needed, since he'd finally decided he rather wanted to live. Bleeding to death was about as much fun as being burned alive, as far as he was concerned. At the moment, the owner of the soft voice sighed again... Zevran knew this, as he felt the ghost of her breathe skitter across his face as she exhaled.  
  
"All of you, go wait over there." One hand left the side of his head as she spoke, presumably directing her companions. "Cadoc, here boy." With that, the unmistakable smell of mabari drew closer. "Stay."   
  
There was a bark, which Zevran assumed was the dog agreeing, before the hand returned to his head. Before long, he felt a coolness coil around his brain. It was soothing, and helped to ease the throbbing, to the point he dared to attempt to open his eyes again. He wasn't sure if he was glad that he managed, even if in front of him was a strikingly beautiful woman. Porcelain skin, flaming red hair that fell to her shoulders in ringlets, startling green eyes. Her pretty face was adorned with a swirling red tattoo, that curled around her right eye, danced across her cheek, before dropping straight to her jaw. She was stunning... but unfortunately, was also the warden he had been hired to kill. Things were worse than he thought. Being at the complete mercy of someone whose life you are, or were, actively trying to end… that was never a good thing. However, there was a slight twitch to her mouth, indicating a brief smile.   
  
"Hello," she greeted, quietly.   
  
Zevran would have laughed at the absurdity of that, if it didn't hurt so much to simply breathe.   
  
"Now that I'm sure you're not going to die from a brain injury, I'm going to heal your lungs," she told him. "Then, you can answer some questions, and depending if I like your answers, I will heal the rest of you. Sound like a good deal?"

"Yes," he managed to wheeze. Instantly regretting it as he hissed again in pain.

"Easy," the warden soothed, as she began to loosen his leather chest plate.

Normally, Zevran would have whipped off some quip, about how beautiful women never could resist undressing him. However, a combination of pain and confusion stole his usual, playful nature. She was being utterly gently with him, carefully moving the material in a way, that caused him the least amount of discomfort. When she had access to his naked skin, her touch was almost tender, and that alone was beyond perplexing. He had tried to kill this woman, yet here she was willingly tending to him. It was baffling, perplexing, disconcerting, but also rather nice... Zevran couldn't remember the last time someone had tended him with do much care, which probably meant it was the first time in his. That fact alone made him decide, if she let him live, he'd ask to join her. He was so intrigued by this woman... However, the healing of his chest derailed his thoughts. It was not pleasant, nor soothing, especially compared to how the warden had healed his head. Zevran felt the itch of muscles slowly knitting back together, and heard the unnerving crack, as broken ribs realigned themselves. There was no control over his wincing or gasps of pain, as he tried not the writhe on the floor. Zevran knew he should be embarrassed by this display of weakness, his normal bravado having deserted him, but found it hard to care, warden gently stroked his hair, after each acknowledgement of pain. There was a final crack, as his shoulder shifted back into it's socket, which left him groaning. Of course, that was the moment the warden began to question him.

"Now, I want some answers," she stated.

"Ah, so I'm going to be interrogated. Let me save you some time," he offered, once he'd gotten his breath back. "My name is Zevran, Zev to my friends. I am a member of the Antivan Crows, brought here with the sole purpose of slaying any remaining Grey Wardens. Which I have failed at, sadly…"

Oddly, he found himself on edge as he waited her reply. Something he'd never worried about before, as his charm had always carried him through any situation. He could hear scoffs and murmurs of dissent from the warden's companions, who stood not far away, along with a hostile growl from the mabari by her side. However, as he looked up at her, he could have sworn he saw a hint of a smile.

 


	3. An Unlikely Ally (Amell PoV)

Sitting back on her haunches, careful not to reveal an eyeful of what was under her robes, Solona regarded her would be assassin. Despite this Zevran's words and the situation, she couldn't help the twitch of a smile, that threatened to form on her lips. He certainly intrigued her, and she eyed him critically.

"I'm rather happy you failed," she stated, dryly.

"So would I be, in your shoes," he acknowledged, his voice as exotic as his looks. "For me, however, it sets a… rather poor precedent. Doesn't it? Getting captured by a target, even one as lovely as yourself, seems a tad detrimental to ones budding assassin career."

Solona found herself biting the inside of her cheek, in order to stop a smile from forming. Sure, she knew she should be angry at the elf, he had just tried to kill her after all, but there was something about his bravado that made her curious about him. If he wanted to play this game, Solona was happy to oblige him... at least for now.

"Too bad for you then," she retorted, sarcastically.

The elf gave a dramatic sigh. "Yes… it's true. Too bad for me."

"So why are you giving me information so freely?" Solona asked, a little suspicious.

"Why not?" he scoffed. "I wasn't paid for silence. Not that I offered it for sale… precisely."

This only raised more questions, and she found herself frowning slightly. "Aren't you at least loyal to your employers?”

"Loyalty is an _interesting_ concept,” the assassin replied. “If you wish, and you're done interrogating me, we can discuss it further."

Cocking her head to the side, Solona scrutinised the elf's face, trying not to get distracted by his good looks. Not to mention the small, self-assured smirk he'd been wearing throughout the conversation. Surprisingly, for someone laying bound on a dirt road, he somehow managed to pull it off. However, it was the honest look in his unusual amber eyes... a look quite at odds with the smirk, which drew her attention. A half smile formed on her own lips.

"Against my better judgement, I'm listening," she told him. "Though make it quick."

"Well, here's the thing… I failed to kill you, so my life is forfeit," he explained. "That's how it works. If you don't kill me, the Crows will. Thing is, I like living and you are obviously the sort to give the Crows pause. So… let me serve _you_ instead."

Behind her there was a chorus of “No!”, “Not a chance” and “You have to be jesting”. Even Cadoc gave a low growl, but Solona kept her gaze locked onto the assassin's eyes, even as she held up a hand for quiet. There was something very earnest in their depths, something she was sure that even the elf wasn't aware of. Despite the failed assassination attempt, Solona could admit that he was a fierce fighter, with a combat style similar to Leliana's. He could prove an asset, though she wasn't fully convinced he wouldn't stab her in the back... it might not be personal, but he was hired to kill her after all.

"Can I expect the same amount of loyalty?" she queried, a bit coldly.

"I happen to be a very loyal person," Zevran defended, sounding a little affronted. "Up until the point someone expects me to die for failing. That's not a fault is it? Really? I mean… unless you are the sort that would do the same thing. In which case I… don't come very well recommended, I suppose."

Once again, Solona was back to biting the inside of her cheek, to halt a smile. The complete slip in his façade, the slight stumble in his words, and the softening of his expression was rather… cute. It oddly reminded her a little of Cullen, her favourite Templar back at the tower, back before Uldred's betrayal. Even the joke at the end, spoke of barely concealed nervousness, rather than any bravado. She could feel a dangerous soft spot starting to form for the assassin, but despite that, she was determined to keep him on the back foot.

"And what's to stop you finishing the job later?" Solona asked.

"To be completely honest, I was never given much of a choice regarding joining the Crows,” he explained. “They bought me on the slave market when I was a child. I think I've paid my worth back to them, plus tenfold. The only way out, however, is to die or join up with someone they can't touch."

"You are not seriously listening to him, are you?" Alistair called, sounding incredulous.

"Even if I kill you now, they might just kill me on principle for failing the first time," the elf continued, ignoring the outburst. "Honestly, I… would rather take my chances with you."

"And what exactly would you want in return?" she queried.  
  
Idly, Solona drummed her fingers against her upper arm. If his story was true, which she unfortunately had to admit seemed likely, since the elven population was hardly given equal and fair treatment, she felt sorry for him.

"Well, let's see… being allowed to live would be nice," he replied. "And would make me marginally more useful too."

"Marginally," Solona agreed, dryly.

The elf gave a quiet, almost derisory sounding snort. "And further down the line, if you decide you no longer have need of me, then I go on my way. Until then, I'm yours," he continued. The last two words seeming to hold thinly veiled double meaning.

She hummed in thought. "Supposing I believe you," she said at length. "Why should I want your services?"

"Why? Because I am skilled at many things," the elf replied, his confidence evidently coming back. "From fighting, to stealth and picking locks. I could also warn you should the Antivan Crows attempt something more… sophisticated. Now that my attempt has failed."

"Not that I'm particularly worried about them, after your failure," she teased.

"You wound me," he replied, his smirk fully back. "I could also stand around and look pretty, if you prefer," he goaded. "Warm your bed." His voice dropped to a lower pitch. "Fend off unwanted suitors, no?" The last offer was punctuated with a sly glance towards Alistair.

Unable to stop herself, Solona chuckled. "Bed-warming might be nice," she replied, dropping her voice to match his husky tone.   
  
She heard Alistair splutter behind her, Wynne tutting, and both Morrigan and Leliana stifling their own chuckles.

"See… I knew we could find a common interest. Or two, or three. Really, I can go all night." There was no denying the innuendo that time.

"Dear Maker," Wynne muttered, barely under her breathe.

"So, what shall it be?" Zevran questioned. "I will even shine armour. You won't find a better deal, I promise."

"See Alistair, he's even got an offer for you," Solona called, giving the flustered looking ex-Templar a wink over her shoulder. "Very well, _Zev_ , I accept your offer."

"A fine plan," Morrigan drawled. "But I would examine your food and drink far more closely from now on. Where I, you."

"That's excellent advice for anyone," the elf quipped.

"Behave," Solona scolded. "Or I will roll you on your injured arm to cut you bindings."

"You are not so cruel, my lovely warden," Zevran smiled.

"Solona," she corrected, gently helping him to sit up "Or Amell. Either will do, I get enough of the title everywhere else. I don't need it from my travelling companions as well."   
  
After unsheathing the small dagger she kept in her boot, she deftly cut the rope binding his wrists. Instead of returning the dagger to it's sheath, Solona tossed it to Leliana, who caught it easily. The elf gave her a questioning look.  
  
"How stupid do you think I am?" she asked. "You _did_ just try to kill me."   
  
Without another word, she took stock of how the assassin held his arm against his chest, despite the fact that her spell had already popped it back in place. She sent another tendril of healing magic to ease his pain and mend any muscle damage around the injured join. Once that was done, Solona stood and offered her hand to the elf. Zevran accepted, and allowed her to help him to his feet. There was a quick flash of agony across his handsome face, before his knees buckled and he hunched forward. Without thinking, Solona halted his fall by catching him around the waist. She belatedly realised that closing the distance between them, gave the assassin a golden opportunity to stab her in the gut, should he carry a concealed weapon. But instead, Solona found his weight resting cautiously against her, almost as if he was expecting her to attack. One of his hands held her hip, whilst the other gripped her bicep, and his head resting on the shoulder above. He was panting hard, and slightly trembling with the effort to remain on his feet.

"Back?" she asked, whispering.

A pained grunt was the only response she got, so shifting her weight slightly, to enabling her to reach his back, Solona gently began to run her free hand down his spine. She caressed his naked skin in a soothing manner, as she sent her mana to ease the pain and mend the unseen injury. Minutes passed by, as the two stood together, with bones and muscles quickly healing, until Zevran finally raised his head from her shoulder. However, he didn't move far.

"I hereby pledge my oath of loyalty to you,” he whispered in her ear. “Until such a time you choose to release me from it. I'm your man, without reservation. This I swear."

 

 


	4. A Simple Gift (Zevran PoV)

Zevran had kept pace beside the warden for the past few hours, and when they had finally halted in a clearing nearby a pond, the sun was touching the horizon. He had to admit, the camp site that the raven haired woman and mabari had scouted, was a good one. The ground was soft grass, with earthen banks circling the clearing, and frogs croaking in the undergrowth... letting Zevran know that he would at least escape becoming a meal for passing mosquitoes. The warden gave a low chuckle, as she regarded the other woman.  
  
"Morrigan, my lovely Witch of the Wilds, a frog pond? How delightful! Are you introducing us to past suitors that fell below your standards?"

"But of course," the witch replied, a dark smile forming. "You know how I so love proving our _dear_ Templar right."

Despite not really knowing what was going on, Zevran couldn't help the smirk that tugged at his mouth, as Alistair coughed with embarrassment, and mumbled something about getting the camp set up. Then realisation dawned, he didn't have a tent... not even a bedroll, since this was not how Zevran had pictured his day ending. Granted, he had mostly pictured ending the day dead, but that was besides the point. He bit back a resigned sigh. There was a distinct chill in the air, that heralded the change of seasons, and he knew it would not be a comfortable night, sleeping underneath the stars with winter quickly approaching. Pushing the thought aside, Zevran went to offer his assistance to anyone who would welcome it... after all, he had promised to be useful. But with the warden off with the one called Leliana, collecting fresh water, the only person willing to give him the time of day, was the travelling merchant; Bodahn. The dwarf smiled kindly at him, as he handed over a heavy pile of pelts, and instructed him to find Solona. Without argument, Zevran did as he was asked, and found the warden outside one of the newly erected canvas tents.  
  
"I have a delivery of fine furs, for a fine lady," he called out in greeting.  
  
To his surprise, she regarded him with a smile... or perhaps that look was directed at the pelts, he wasn't entirely sure.

"Zevran, thank you. Can you put them in there?" she asked.  
  
The warden motioned, almost absent-mindedly, towards the open entrance of her tent. With a nod, he obediently followed her request, though eyed her appreciatively, as as she bent to rummage through her pack.  
  
"Whilst you're there, choose whichever you like," she added.

As her words sunk in, Zevran froze, and his hands hovered uselessly over one of the pelts. Shaking his head, he dismissed what he had heard. These were luxurious pelts indeed, expertly treated and cured by the look of them. They'd fetch an extremely high price, in any of the market towns in Ferelden, so there was no way the warden was offering him one for free... she wouldn't waste them so needlessly, he must of miss heard her. With that, Zevran left the stack of pelts to one side and exited her tent. It seemed he must have stayed regarding the furs longer than he thought, for when Zevran emerged, he was greeted by the sight of a roaring camp fire, as dusk settled around the clearing. All of a sudden, there was an excited squeal from Leliana, as she flung her arms around the warden. Oddly, there was a flower clasped in one of the rogue's hands, and moving closer, Zevran could hear their conversation.

"Oh, it smells just like my mother," Leliana smiled. "I wouldn't have thought you would remember."

"You're my friend, Leli. Of course I remember," the warden chuckled. "Besides, you'd be a pretty poor bard, if you couldn't make people remember your stories."

"Perhaps, but it seems like someone seeks your audience," the rogue chuckled.

The warden turned, and for a moment the fire light set her red hair ablaze like a rich ruby. She was exquisite. However, she brow began to furrow, and Zevran found himself swallowing passed an unexpected nervous lump in his throat. He rarely felt out of his depth, but something about the mage disconcerted him... least of all, because he knew his continued breathing rested solely upon her whims. Though by the time she reached him, Zevran had recovered his composure.

"None to your fancy?" she asked, casually.  
  
Unsure what the warden meant, Zevran looked at her in confusion.  
  
"The pelts," she clarified. "Didn't you like any of them?"

"Oh… I…" he managed to say, before the warden linked her arm through his, and gently propelled him back towards her tent.

"Win all the ladies over with that line do you?" she teased. "It's hard not to notice you don't have a bedroll, never mind a tent. I have some spare blankets you can have, but a pelt will be a lot more comfortable and warmer, than sleeping on the ground."

It took Zevran a moment to realise she had actually been serious earlier and for some reason, that was a little terrifying. He wasn't use to someone being nice to him, at least not in a non-sexual way, and never without an ulterior motive. It left him feeling on edge. Perhaps it was a set-up, or a test, which meant he had even more reason to be on guard.

"You are too kind, my dear warden" he deflected. "But the blankets will more than suffice."

"Solona,” the warden corrected, narrowing her eyes. “And you're going to be no good to me, if you can’t fight because your muscles have seized up with the cold. Choose a pelt, for Maker's sake!"

Zevran was about to try argue again, when Morrigan called them from across the fire: "Amell. Elf. Food."

"Eloquent as always," the warden called back.  
  
Chuckling, she began to head towards the camp fire and her companions. Though as she did, the warden glanced over her shoulder towards him.  
  
"Consider it a gift, if it will make you feel better Zev."

He swallowed hard. A gift... no.... that only made matters worse. What was he to do with a gift?

 


	5. Fire and Moonlight (Amell PoV)

Solona awoke with a silent scream stuck in her throat. Ever since Ostagar, she'd been plagued by nightmares. Most of the time, she relived the battle with the Ogre atop the forsaken watchtower... but the worst were the ones like tonight, where she would be forced to watch Duncan die. Neither were easy, and no matter which her mind conjured, Solona would always wake in a cold sweat and no hope of sleeping afterwards. So after running a hand through her unruly hair, she dressed quickly... barely pausing only to wrap a warm woollen blanket about her shoulders, before venturing out of her tent, and into the cold night air. The sharp chill of the approaching winter made her shiver, and Solona wrapped her blanket tightly about herself. On nights like this, she usually took solace watching the moon and stars, or staring deep into the camp fire embers. However, tonight she was not alone. A lone figure sat staring into the flames caught her attention, and quietly Solona cursed herself, the nightmare had made her forget the would-be assassin. She gave a low whistle, that brought Cadoc to her side, before striding over to Zevran. To her surprise, the elf turned to her, and gave a welcoming smirk.

"Ah... my dear Warden. Ladies such as yourself, are already too lovely to need beauty sleep, no?" he greeted, jovially.

"Flatterer," she chuckled. "I didn't expect anyone to be awake."

"So you came to ravish me in my sleep, no? An interesting prospect," Zevran teased.

On whim, Solona sat down next the elf, figuring that if he was going to kill her tonight, he would have tried already. There was a flash of surprise in his amber eyes, as she got comfortable on the available pelt, but soon covered it with an easy grin. Deciding to play along with his flirting, if only to chase away the thoughts of her nightmare, Solona returned his smile with a smirk of her own.  
  
"What if I did?" she asked, flippantly.

"Well here I am...” Zevran countered, suggestively.

"So I see," Solona drawled, before turning her attention to the fire. "And since you're awake and spoiled my plans, care to answer some questions instead?"

"Oh... how cruel you are, to get a poor man's hopes up," he chuckled. "Though as long as you make the questions interesting, this should be good. Go ahead."

Out of the corner of her eye, Solona noticed the way the elf shivered, despite the blanket wrapped about his shoulders. She had leant him the one she had took from the Tower, when she had first left with Duncan, though it was obviously not warm enough. Without a second thought, Solona shuffled closer to Zevran, and added one side of her blanket to his. He stiffened for a moment, presumably from surprise, before a lazy grinned spread across his handsome face. In the next breath, he had returned the favour, and left his arm loosely wrapped around her waist. Oddly, Solona found she didn't mind, even with his earlier assassination attempt. There was a grunt as Cadoc unceremoniously flung himself down behind them, adding his heat to theirs. Unwittingly, her gaze fell to Zevran's sword and dagger, that lay an arm's length away.

"What does it take to become an assassin?" she asked.

"That is what you what you wish to know? How very unexpected," he chuckled. "Well, my dear Grey Warden, the Crow's would have you believe that it is an involved process, that takes years of training. The sort that tests both your resolve and your endurance. Survive that process and maybe, just maybe, you're good enough to start being considered one of them. But, quite frankly, the truth is all it requires is a desire to kill people for a living. It is surprising how well one can do in such a field."

Unable to control the motion, Solona gave a shudder. Zevran's earlier words about being bought from the slave trade by the crows, rang fresh in her mind. If that was as true as she suspected, his life must have been harrowing... yet she doubted he'd appreciate her condolences, he didn't seem that type of person. However, the feeling of the elf pulling her a little tighter against him, evidently thinking her shudder was from the cold, roused Solona from her thoughts.  
  
"You did quite well, no doubt? You wouldn't still be a Crow if all your assassinations went as poorly as mine," she joked, instead.

Zevran chuckled. "Within the Crows I did," he conceded. "But it is something that the Crows have devoted a great deal of time to perfecting. An assassin simply specialises in striking from stealth, and in maximising that first attack to be as lethal as possible. Debilitating your foe by poison or by crippling their limbs, makes any follow up combat you have to engage in that much simpler."

An amused snort escaped her. "I guess that explains the tree. I thought it was less than subtle for an assassin... though considering how it failed miserably, I guess poison is your preferred method?"

"It is, indeed," he agreed, smiling impishly. "It is not something inherent to an assassin's skills however, merely something complimentary. Of course the Crows like to pretend that their abilities are trade secrets, shrouded in shadows and wrapped in a blanket of mystery. So, let's just keep this between you and me, shall we?"

"Well... we've survived Alistair's attempts to kill us with food poisoning, so far. Though I suppose we should get you to taste the food first, whenever it's your turn to cook," Solona grinned.  
  
The elf gave her a questioning look.   
  
"What? You thought you could get out of your fair share of duties?" she laughed.

"Not at all. I did not expect you to trust me, that is all," Zevran replied, seriously.

Solona shrugged. "I see little point in waiting for a companion to stab a knife in my back. There's enough stacked again myself and Alistair, without second guessing those we travel with.”  
  
“You are quite forgiving, my dear. Especially considering how we met.”

“It's not like it was personal,” she surmised.  
  
Zevran chuckled quietly. “Few understand that distinction. Most tend to find attempted assassination very personal.”

It was Solona's turn to laugh. “I can appreciate, and the other's probably feel that way. So it's probably a good thing that it's Morrigan's turn to cook this week, and Leliana's the week after. And as for keeping this between you and me, that depends on what you're willing to teach me, in order to buy my silence.”

"You wish to become an assassin, my dear? I could certainly teach you, but I won't," he replied, seriously. "I swore to the Crows that the things they taught me, were to remain a secret. And while yes, they are already angry at me, I would rather not push things, you see."

Solona nodded in understanding. "Actually, I was just interested in the poisons. I suspect they could be useful to know, and understanding how they're made, would help me and Wynne create antidotes. However, I'll respect your word Zev."

"If this is the reason, and you are truly insistent… let me think about it," he smiled, turning his gaze back to the fire. "The Crows are already angry at me, yes. Who knows?"

"Thank you," she said, stifling a yawn. "Bodahn got a message that an acquaintance of his, will be in the Denerim market the next few days, so we're heading there just after sunrise."

"Hmmm, we should get there just before nightfall then," Zevran mused.

"If no more would be assassins try and attack," she teased. "Here, might take the chill off. Try get some rest."   
  
After shifting to her knees, Solona wrapped her blanket fully around the elf, hoping it would offer more warmth than the previous one. He smiled in thanks as she stood. Then surprised her, when he gently caught her hand, and kissed her knuckles. The gesture came across as more sweet than debonair, another thing Solona hadn't been expecting, but naturally Zevran had to cover up whatever his true intention was...  
  
"With thoughts of you in my head, my dear, I am sure I will have the most pleasant dreams," he flirted.

"Good night _again_ , Zev," Solona chuckled.  
  
With a low whistle to Cadoc, she strode for her tent, determined not to give a backward glance to the elf. It was insane how good looking he was, not to mention charming... and oddly endearing. He was a baffling enigma, one she looked forward to understanding.

 

 


	6. Trial by Euphemism (Zevran PoV)

Being in Denerim put Zevran on edge, not that he let it show. He had the reputation of a fearless, loveable rogue to uphold after all. Not to mention, that the warden had asked him to accompany her into the city… and well, Zevran had already admitted to himself, that he had a problem saying no, whenever the redhead turned her brilliant green eyes on him. Which was why he was in the bustling market square with Solona, her mabari and Leliana, speaking with a fellow Antivan... or at least the warden was speaking. There was _something_ about the human man, that made Zevran try and blend into the crowd, silently observing but not drawing attention to himself. As soon as he heard the man state that he handled 'other affairs', Zevran's blood chilled. The Crows. He had no doubt. Catching the warden's eye, he gave a subtle signal they should move on. Thankfully, she seemed to understand, for moments later the four of them were making their way back towards the city gate.

"Explain at camp," Solona whispered.

Zevran was thankful that the mage had instinctively understood the need for privacy. However, they had barely made it to the street housing the gates, before the sound of a lone person running met his ears. As one, they all turned to face their pursuer, expecting a fight but finding a young human boy following them. He held out an envelope, that Solona cautiously accepted. The boy couldn't have been more than seven, and Zevran couldn't help wonder if he himself, had ever looked so innocent.

"Message for you milady," the youngster beamed.

"Tha…" the warden began.

"Must go, more things to deliver," the boy interrupted, rushing off.

Solona chuckled, shaking her head, before handing a small pouch that jingled slightly, to her mabari. With a low whistle, she sent the dog after the child, and he caught up with the boy quickly. In the near distance, Zevran could see the child gingerly take the offered bag from Cadoc, and widen his eyes in delight when he opened it. Zevran had expected the youth to simply scamper off, but instead he turned back to them, and offered the warden a small bow. The mage answered with a wave, before she turned her attention back to the envelope and broke the seal. Sidling closer to her, Zevran wondered if Solona realised she had probably just bought that boy's loyalty... or at very least his favour, with that little gift.

"Shall we see what my new friend brought us?" she asked, quietly.

"You know, if you keep handing out coppers like that, we'll end up with a hoard of children following us," Leliana smiled. "And after Lothering, didn't Morrigan threaten to poison you if that happened again?"

"No, she threatened to slip mayapple into Alistair's food, if he continued to teach the children the entirety of the Chant of Light," the warden replied, her eyes still skimming over the parchment. "This is an anonymous letter, inviting us to a meeting in the Gnawed Noble Tavern."

"I suspect it will be in one of the back rooms," Zevran advised. "Such things usually are, but at least it is not some grimy backstreet."

"So it will only be blood, and not undetermined filth that will be soiling our clothes, when this goes awry?" Solona quipped.

"Ah, always the optimist my dear," he grinned. "Lead on, I shall follow."   
  
The mabari barked, seemingly in agreement and Leliana hummed her own assent. The warden took a few moments to quickly burn the parchment, before they retraced their steps back to the market, and moved further past the stalls to the tavern. As they walked the halls, no one paid them any heed, and they soon found the most likely room. Upon entering, they were greeted by the same suspicious man from the market. Now that his face wasn't shielded by the shadows of hanging carpets and silks, Zevran recognised him for who he was; Master Ignacio. The Crow's most widely travelled handler... a fact that didn't bode well, for either him or the warden.

"You are here about the note?" Ignacio greeted. "Maybe we have some things we can discuss?"

The double question put Zevran on high alert. It was a characteristic most handlers had, when hiring outside help. Even without the mark on her head, it was dangerous territory for the warden, and a situation he was loathed to let her walk into unprepared. Without thinking, Zevran shifted his stance, affectively shielding Solona from one of Ignacio's nearby henchmen.

"See the conversation stays civil," he warned in a clipped tone. "If this is a trap, I…"

The master gave a crooked smile. "Zevran, isn't it? You're Taliesen's _responsibility_. Other Crow's may try to kill you, but in my eyes, you are already dead. So, you are of no notice, but the warden here… she is of great _interest_ to me."   
  
With that, Ignacio moved swiftly to capture Solona's hand, and kissed her knuckles. Zevran felt himself bristle, despite being unsure why his fellow Crow touching the warden, bothered him so. Logically, Zevran knew he should be honing into the fact about Taliesen, though chose to file the unwelcome information away for later. Right now, he had a Grey Warden to protect. Ignacio was not worthy to be in her presence, let only lay a finger on her... never mind try and strike a bargain with her. But before Zevran could make any move, Solona was already nodding.

"I'm listening," she stated.

"Ferelden is a busy place. Blight, civil war, other mayhem, lots of people not getting along. Sometimes they really… don't get along. Many want to do something about it. The people that handle that sort of thing can get real busy," Ignacio stated.

The warden snorted. "So, you're hiring help?" she asked, laughter undercutting her words. "More importantly, you're wanting to hire someone you want dead?"

"No, not I. I am not fool enough to strive for such a thing," the master defended. "But you could say that. There are not many people we can turn to. So, someone who has crossed our path and lived, well… maybe they could help out? Make some coin, everyone wins."

"How would it work?" the warden asked, much to Zevran's surprise.

"I hand you a scroll, you read it, you learn about someone interesting. If you find out something happens to them, something unfortunate, then if we talk again, I give you money… for letting me know," Ignacio smiled. "You don't like what's on the scroll, don't do anything. Maybe they have an accident and someone else tells me all about it instead."

"If I agree, I don't want any other Crows after us," she replied.  
  
Her stance shifting slight towards Zevran, making it abundantly clear that 'us' included himself, and not just her fellow warden, and he barely stopped himself sucking in a surprised breath. Only a few days ago, he had tried to kill her himself. Now the mage was considering working with the Crows, seemingly driven by the motivation to protect him. The redhead baffled and entranced Zevran. He vaguely wondered if this was what having a friend was like, never since Rinna had…   
  
_'No! This is not the time!'_

"That, I cannot do," the master replied, sounding actually remorseful. "Another master has a contract on you, but if you help us out, _maybe_ when that master asks for help, he will just get silence. Yes?"

Now, that was a turn up for the books, as the Magi liked to say. From a Crow Master, that was as good as swearing an allegiance. Not something Zevran had expected when this conversation started. As much as he was wary to work with the Crows again, this offer had some serious merit. Not that he had any way of subtly notifying the warden of this... which made Zevran wonder if he should at least teach her some of the Crow's none verbal signals, to let them communicate during times like this.

"I see," the warden replied at length. "On another topic, I don't suppose you know of any interesting scrolls, do you my friend? One can only read the same stories so many times."

He would have been annoyed with the way the master's eyes lit up at this, if Zevran himself wasn't so impressed with how quickly the mage picked up the play of words. Even those familiar with the Crows often took months, if not years, to master the skills... and a circle mage with not much experience of the world, had grasped it within minutes. Her intellect only made her more fascinating to Zevran, not that he had time to think of such things, since Ignacio produced a scroll from a nearby set of draws. There was nothing untoward in the master's actions, but the way the man's hand brushed the warden's as he passed her the document, had Zevran biting back the urge to sever the man's fingers.

"You are a cautious little weasel Ignacio," he hissed, barely holding his temper. "What's your angle? If you are playing us false…"

"My darts are not for you," the master interrupted, his eyes never leaving the warden, much to Zevran's disapproval. "I need to be real… _honest_ sometimes, and I can say I haven't asked anyone to do anything. I just gave someone something to read."

"And you think that will save your hide when they nail it to a wall?" Zevran quipped.

"You are already dead in my eyes _whoreson_ , take care I don't learn otherwise," Ignacio sneered.

For a split second, the old taunt stung, as it had so often done before. Though that was swiftly replaced by complete shock, as the warden closed the distance between herself and the master. There were no weapons drawn but, being a mage a fiery red aura surrounded her, as she gripped the front of the man's tunic, and pulled him down so that his eyes were level with her own.

"No one insults or threatens my companions, understand?" she snarled.

"Of course my lady," Ignacio managed to smile, though his voice was strained. "And if that is all, luck be to you."

"And may the Maker's light shine upon you," the warden replied.  
  
Her voice was sickly sweet, and when she smoothed out the rumble in the man’s clothing, Zevran was hard pressed not to laugh.

* * *

  
**Author's Note:  
** **Mayapple is a poisonous plant that can cause diarrhoea and severe digestive upset.**

  
  


 


	7. Gilded Cages (Amell PoV)

Silently seething, Solona made her way back to camp, with Zevran, Leliana and Cadoc in tow. Really, she shouldn't be angry at all. The little mission for the Crows hadn't taken too long and had been successful, with a surprisingly deserving target dead. However, so called 'Master' Ignacio really rubbed her up the wrong way, with his earlier comment about Zevran never far from her mind. So after a day of dealing with the so-called master, Solona was in a slow boil of rage, with the desperate need to unwind. Thanks to Duncan, archery had replaced Kundalini, as her preferred method of meditation. Which meant, after making polite excuses to her companions, she had slipped away from the rest of the group, and Cadoc trotted faithfully beside her. With dinner at least two hours away, Solona headed into the small copse of woodland, that surrounded their camp site. She was intent on shoot arrows into some poor, unsuspecting tree until she felt better, with only her mabari for company. However, Solona was certain she could hear another set of footsteps a short distance behind them, but since Cadoc hadn't raised any alarm, she was certain it was merely a member of her band of misfits. It meant that she wouldn't get the peace she wanted, but at least she wouldn't be attacked. Before long, Solona found a suitable victim, a withering Birch near the end of it's life. Inhaling slowly, she took up her favoured stance, left foot forward. Exhaling, she brought her bow into position, grasped in her left hand. Inhaling, her right hand notched an arrow, and drew back the bow string. Exhaling, she forced her shoulders down, which pulled her shoulder blades together. Inhaling, she sighted down the arrow shaft. Exhaling, she let the missile fly. There was a satisfying _thunk,_ as the arrow embedded itself into the dry wood.

"You are a marvel to watch, my dear," a distinctive voice called.

Opting to ignore him, since Zevran was known to like the sound of his own voice, Solona notched another arrow. She inhaled and exhaled slowly, in an almost expectant silence, before she took her shot. There was another _thunk,_ as her second arrow embedded just shy of her original target.

"You are a rather aggressive little minx,” the elf quipped, from somewhere behind her. “Lovely too... though it is not often one sees a mage wielding anything but a staff."

"Is that you asking, in a roundabout way, why I use a bow?"

"Perhaps," he replied, a note of amusement in his rich voice.

"Duncan," Solona stated, sharply.  
  
Her feelings towards the rogue and his death were still raw, so she let another arrow fly with my force than necessary. _THUNK_. Sighing, she surveyed the arrow embedded half way up it's shaft, and mentally berated herself. She hated wasting supplies, and there would be no freeing that arrow. Beside her, Cadoc whined, sensing her frustration. Behind her, Solona could hear Zevran settling himself down somewhere, and she sighed again. It wasn't the assassin fault, how Duncan died, he didn't deserve her sharp tone. Taking up her stance once more, she sighted down another arrow, breathing deeply, before exhaling and letting the projectile fly. _Thunk-Snap_. Smiling slightly at the sight of one arrow splitting another, Solona lowered her bow, before she turned to face the elf. She found him sat upon a large rock, looking at her intently. After raising her eyebrow in question, and merely getting a shrug in return, she decided to join him.  
  
"Duncan was the Grey Warden who recruited me,” she explained, calmly. “I only got to travel with him for a week, between leaving the Tower and meeting up with the army in Ostagar, but he was kind enough not to see me as _just some mage_." Solona rolled her eyes at the words. "He taught me a few skills on the way... hunting, gathering, how to build a reliable fire without magic... that sort of thing. But archery was the most enjoyable, I think. I must have impressed him, because he'd promised to teach me how to duel wield like he did... similar to your style I think, but we never got the chance to train. Loghain put pay to that, the bastard. Sure, most mourn a king cut down in his prime. I mourn Duncan, who was possibly the most remarkable man I have ever met."

"You speak of him with some affection," Zevran noted, intrigued.   
  
"Hard not to be fond of the man who rescues you," she smiled.  
  
The assassin looked at her with confusion clearly written across his handsome face.   
  
"I was taken to the Tower when I was very young,” Solona explained. “I don't remember much about life before that, just my mother begging them not to take me away. She couldn't do much though, she was heavily pregnant... which I suppose means I have a sibling out there somewhere.”

"You do not know?" he interrupted, surprised.  
  
"Once you're in the Tower, that's it,” Solona sighed, sadly. “Locked up and looking at a life where the only sunlight you see, is through barred windows, and the only taste of real life you get to see, is images in books. You may be breathing and your heart beating, but it's far from a life."

"Where was your father in this?" Zevran asked, quietly.

A quick glance in the assassin's direction, let Solona know he was regarding her with an unusual mix of intent, understanding and possibly even empathy... it was an unusual combination, made all the more strange, coming from someone as theatrical as the elf. For all his blustering and bravado, Solona knew there was more to Zevran than met the eye. And though as a rule, she tried to avoid talking about herself and her past, something told her the assassin would probably understand better than most. So giving a slight shrug, she let her mouth twitch into an almost smile.   
  
"I don't know where he was when the Templar's came, possibly in hiding. From what Irving told me, he was an apostate."

"Irving?" Zevran questioned, his brow furrowing.

Solona chuckled. "The First Enchanter. He's the closest thing I have to a father figure I suppose. I was his sole apprentice whilst I was studying, and he often treated me like his own child, rather than a pupil. He was one of the few good things I got from the Tower, and I'm half certain he's the reason that Duncan sought to recruit me actually," she confessed. “Anyway, now that you've snooped out some of my past, care to answer some questions yourself?"

Zevran gave a wholly unconvincing groan. "Go ahead."

"Why did you want to leave the Crows? Or was it purely due to imminent death?" she asked, her tone light.

"Well now, I suppose that is a very fair question. Being an assassin is, after all, a living... at least as such things go. Though I suppose you won't believe me, if I say it was to come and serve the whims of a deadly sex goddess? No? Shame," he laughed. "I was simply never given the opportunity to choose another way. So, if that choice presents itself, why should I not seize upon it?"

"Is there anything you would rather do instead?" Solona asked.

"Now that you mention it, I'm not entirely certain," Zevran admitted. "I was but a boy of seven when I was purchased, for three sovereigns I'm told. Which is a good price, considering I was ribs and bone, and didn't know the pommel of a dagger from the pointy end. The Crows buy all their assassins that way. Buy them young, raise them to know nothing but murder. If you do poorly in your training, you die."   
  
There was an edge to the elf's voice as he spoke. Solona wasn't sure if he realised, since her liked to play everything off as a joke. However, it was something that she could relate to, since it was very reminiscent of her own feelings towards the Circle of Magi.

"Sounds... not great,” she said, hedging her bets.

Zevran gave an amused snort. "Oh, I don't know about that. The Crows that are actually good enough to survive, end up enjoying some of the benefit."  
  
She raised a sceptical eyebrow, prompting him to elaborate.   
  
“In Antivan, being a Crow gets you respect, it gets you wealth. It gets you women, and men... or whatever it is you might fancy. But that does mean doing what is expected of you, always, and it means you are expendable. Like your Tower, it is a cage. A gilded cage, pretty but confining."

Solona found herself giving the assassin a whole hearted smile. "I think I understand."

"I believe you do," he replied solemnly, before returning her smile. "As for what I will do in the future, presuming that there is one, I truly can't imagine. It might be interesting to go into business for myself, for a change."

"Zevran's Extermination Service?" Solona joked. "No job too big or too small, unless it involves Grey Wardens."

He gasped, holding his hands to his heart in a theatrical show of pain. "You well and truly wound me," he smirked. "However that is an idea, though far away from Antivan, of course. For now, naturally, I go where you go."

"I'm happy to have you a long," she told him, honestly.

"And here I am, happy to be had," Zevran quipped.  
  
Though he grinned, Solona had noticed the flash of surprise in his amber eyes.   
  
"Isn't it wonderful how things work out that way?" he continued.   
  
Cadoc gave a happy sounding bark, almost as if he was agreeing, which set them both off laughing. Still chuckling, Zevran slid off the rock and offered Solona his hand.  
  
"Come now," the elf smiled. "Talking of the Crows summons them, any Antivan Fish Wife will tell you so."

* * *

  
**Author's Note:  
** **Kundalini is meditation practise with Hindu origins, concentrating on 'breathing through the energy centres of the body'. I thought this sounded like a practice mages' might implement, to control the flow/use of mana.**

 


	8. Rainstorm (Zevran PoV)

Staring blindly into the dancing flames of the camp fire, Zevran finished off the remnants of his bowl of pigeon stew, grateful that it hadn't been salted fish or jerked meat again. He blankly set the empty wooden bowl on the ground, as his thoughts wandered back to earlier in the evening. Solona had said she was happy to have him along, and he was no less confused now, than he had been then. Outside of a sexual encounter, Zevran couldn't think of a time that anyone was happy for him to be around. Well, except for…  
  
_'No!'_  
  
Zevran shook his head, refusing to let the memories surface. Thankfully, soft laughter brought him out of his reviver. His gaze fell to the comely warden, who giggled at some stupid thing a goofy grinning Alistair must have said. In the pit of his stomach, Zevran could feel _something_ begin to swell at the sight of them. Though before he could begin to question what that something was, there was an unexpected roll of thunder, before a sudden downpour descended. The surprising deluge quickly doused out the fire in a hiss of steam, that left him spluttering in shock. There was a shriek from Leliana, a low growl from the mabari, and peal of delighted laughter from Solona, before the entire camp erupted into a blur of motion. Everyone took off and rushed to one tent or another for shelter, abandoning the remains of dinner. To Zevran surprise, as Solona and Cadoc ran past him, the warden snagged his wrist and pulled him along. Without ceremony, the three of them all but crashed through the opening of her tent, and landed in a twist of limbs. He would have found it pleasant, if not for the stinking, wet mabari that panted near his face. However, the beaming smile on Solona's face, oddly made up for it.

"Maker! I love the rain," she laughed.  
  
Without preamble, the warden untangled herself and stood. Zevran was about to make a witty retort or other, before he was rendered speechless by seeing the warden begin to unlatch the fastenings of her robes. A lazy smirk pulled at his lips, as he eagerly watched Solona turn her back towards him. Almost in slow motion, the upper section of her robes fell away from her shoulders, and revealed a tantalising expanse of pale skin. Despite his countless exploits, Zevran suddenly couldn't remember anything being sexier than Solona was at that moment... an he certainly hadn't realised what a saucy, confident minx she was. Almost of their own volition, is hands reached for her.

"You needn't have waited for a rainstorm to get me to your tent my ravishing warden. You need only ask," he drawled.

"Pervert," she chuckled, swatting his hands away.  
  
Solona lightly swatted his hands away, and Zevran suddenly found a blanket covering his head.  
  
"I like the rain, not wet clothing," she continued.

Quickly, Zevran removed the blanket, only to find the warden had already wrapped a grey woollen one around herself, and was tying it about her neck, the waist. As much of a shame as it was, to lose the chance to appreciate Solona's naked body, he was rather impressed that she had managed to make a large blanket, look like some sort of dress. Though it wasn't stylish, it was surprisingly flattering, and revealed the lovely expanse of her smooth, porcelain legs. Still smiling, Solona turned back to him, easily meeting his gaze. She gestured towards his armour.

"You may want to do the same," she said.

"Ah... Once again, if you wanted me naked, you only need ask, my dear," he teased.  
  
"Keep trying," Solona retorted.  
  
Chuckling, Zevran watched as she reached for yet another blanket, from her seemingly endless supply, before she turned her attention to Cadoc. Shaking his head, Zevran did as Solona advised, since there was little sense in remaining in soaking armour... wet leather certainly wasn't comfortable. However, Zevran was a little perturbed that she so didn't so much as glance over her shoulder at him. He was used to having women, and men, fall over themselves for a chance to see him naked. It was rare that someone did not find him appealing to the eye, His promising looks were the reason the Crows had bought him in the first place, or so he was told, and the rejection unexpectedly stung. Still, the cool nip too the air, had him hastening to fasten the blanket around himself. He opted to tie it in the style of the togas, that the royal Antivan princes favoured.  
  
"Decent?" Solona asked.  
  
The question caught Zevran off guard, he had not thought the warden would seek to offer him some modicum of privacy. After working for the Crows for so long, it was a novel idea, and a surprisingly touching one. An unexpected lump formed in his throat, and he silently granted Solona's request, when she patted the pelt beside her, inviting him to sit. She gave him a quizzical look, and deciding ignoring his feelings were the best course of action... as always, Zevran opted to joke.  
  
"That would be a matter of opinion, no?"  
  
As he spoke, Zevran opted to shuffle closer to the warden, mostly to prove his point... the private desire to see how she would respond, was purely secondary. The fact she didn't move away him was interesting, and encouraging. Though Solona did surprise him, when she leant her head against his shoulder. The heavy drumming of rain on canvas filled the comfortable silence, as Solona smiled up at him. A small shiver rippled through her body, and without thinking, Zevran curled an arm around her bare shoulders. Surprisingly, even to himself, there was no ulterior motive. His only desire was to heat up her damp and chilled skin... at least for now.  
  
"Tell me a little about Antiva," she asked.  
  
"Oh, you wish to know about Antiva, do you?" he drawled. "The only way to be able to truly appreciate it, would be to go there."  
  
"Then perhaps you need to paint me a picture... as incentive," Solona replied.  
  
Zevran chuckled quietly. "It is a warm place, not cold and harsh like this Ferelden. In Antiva, it rains often, but the flowers are always in bloom. Or so the saying goes.”  
  
"And it grows assassins, I believe," the warden quipped.  
  
"Every land has it's assassins," he replied. "Some are simply more open about their business than others."  
  
"True enough," she nodded. "So, where exactly are you from?"  
  
"I hail from the glorious Antiva City," Zevran stated, proudly. "Home to the royal palace. It is a glitter gem amidst the sand, my Antiva City. Do you come from some place comparable?"  
  
"I'm not really sure," Solona answered, her brow furrowing. "Like I said before, I don't really remember much before the Templars came, but I believe my family originated in Kirkwall. Though, I suppose the Tower is where I am from now, and that's certainly no glittering gem."  
  
Zevran could have kicked himself. For the majority of his life, he had considered the Crows a cage. However, after hearing the snippet the warden had offered of her life, he found himself thankful that his cage had been a lot more figurative than Solona's literal Tower. Almost reflexively, his hold of her tightened slightly, and he strived to keep his tone light when he spoke.  
  
"Ah Cariño, that is too bad. If you were, surely you would spend as much time boasting about it, as I do."  
  
His gentle teasing earned Zevran a small chuckle from the redhead.  
  
"You know, it is most odd,” he continued. “We speak of my homeland, and for all it's wine and dark haired beauties, and piccolo flutes of the minstrels, I miss the leather the most."  
  
There was a sputter from his companion. "Is that some sort of euphemism?”  
  
Laughter escaped Zevran, open and honest, for the first time since leaving Antiva. "It may as well be, but not this once, no. I mean the smell,” he grinned. “For years I lived in a tiny apartment near Antiva City's leather making district, in a building where the Crows stowed their youngest recruits, packed in like crates. I grew accustom to the stench, though the humans complained of it constantly. To this day, the smell of fresh leather is what reminds me most of home, more than anything else."  
  
"Great, an assassin with a leather fetish. If my boots ever go missing, I guess I know who to blame," Solona smiled. "Though you sound like you've been away from home for an age.”  
  
"Oh, not so long I know. It is my first time away from Antiva, however, and the thought of never returning makes me think of it constantly," he confessed. "Before I left, I was tempted to spend what little coin I possessed on leather boots I spotted in a store window. Finest Antivan leather, perfect craftsmanship, ah… but I was a fool to leave them. I thought: 'Ah Zevran, you can buy them as a reward when you return for a job well done'. More the fool I, no?"  
  
Granted, that wasn't exactly true, though it was a good enough excuse to give... He hadn't really expected to survive the mission, and thought the boots would be wasted in the possession of a doomed man. Though if he had somehow succeeded, Zevran hadn't been entirely sure he had wanted to return to Antiva... he loved to city, but not the life of a Crow... well, certainly not as much as he liked others to believe.  
"Job? You mean killing me, right?" Solona asked, quietly. Though didn't give him time to answer, before continuing. "Your home is still there, Zev."  
  
"True, and it's a comforting thought.” He smiled, as much from her shortening his name again, as from her reassurance. “One simply never knows what is to come next. How could I expect to be defeated by a beautiful Grey Warden, a woman who then spares my life?"  
  
Zevran chuckled at just how unplanned _that_ part had been, and Cadoc gave a short bark, almost as if he was agreeing. The warden gave an amused snort.  
  
"Beautiful, is it?"  
  
"I say you are beautiful because it is true. Should I not?" he queried. “It is a crime that Templars would lock up such an alluring creature, such as yourself.”  
  
Solona outright laughed. “Smooth talker. And carry on, by all means.”  
  
Oddly, Zevran found himself feeling relieved. Though he wasn't sure why, since it wasn't something he ever cared about, flirting was just part of his nature after all. However, he found himself actually wanting the mage's approval, which was unusual and dangerous territory. The only other person to make him feel like that was...

 _'No'_  
  
"I am glad to hear it,” he grinned, a little forced. “Now, if it is all the same to you, I would prefer not to speak more of Antiva. It makes me wistful, and hungry for a proper meal."  
  
Instead of an answer, the warden tried to stifle a yawn, as she lifted her head from his shoulder.  
  
"It is good to know you find my stories so enthralling," Zevran teased.  
  
Deciding not to push his luck, at least for the night, he moved to stand. Though once again, Solona surprised him when she caught his wrist. A clap of thunder sounded overhead, and the sound of rain intensified.  
  
"Don't be silly,” she smiled. “There's plenty of room her. Stay."  
  
For a silent moment, Zevran regard the woman he had tried to kill less than a week ago, whilst she settled herself down on the pelt. He couldn't believe she was so quick to trust. But suddenly Cadoc, who had been curled up in a corner until then, flung himself down beside his mistress. A low, rumbling growl emitting from the mabari, who watched Zevran closely. He gave an acknowledging smile to the hound, accepting it was probably Solona's trust in Cadoc, that let her make the offer. Which left him feeling a little uneasy. He had no thought to hurt the warden, his pledge to her had been honest, but he doubted the mabari knew that. However, a flash of lightening and another roll of thunder forced his hand. Cautiously, Zevran settled down on the pile of pelts, with the hound's bulk forming a wall between himself and the warden.  
  
"More blankets, over there, if need…" Solona mumbled.  
  
She vaguely waved her hand in the direction of something behind Zevran, before her hand fell limp and landed on Cadoc's snout. Zevran bit back a small chuckle, as he watched the mabari gently nuzzle the redhead's fingers. Who would have thought that a dangerous Grey Warden mage, and a fierce war hound, would be so damn cute together. But they were, and he felt surprisingly honoured to witness it.

* * *

**Author's Note:  
** **Cariño translates to honey/affection, from Spanish to English.**

 

 


	9. The Pearl (Amell PoV)

It was unusual for them to stay more than a few days, in any one place, but their week in Denerim had proven fruitful. Bodahn had made several, lucrative deals out of the city's inhabitants, partly due to his fellow dwarven merchant; Gorim. Leliana had managed to put to rest part of her past, namely the betrayal of her one time mentor... and ex-lover. Solona herself, had spent the week either in the company of Morrigan, browsing the shelves of Wonders of Thedas, or helping out Kylon, the Guard Sargent she had somehow befriended. Which was how she, Zevran, Leliana and Cadoc ended up in Denerim's infamous den of ill repute. It hadn't gone unnoticed, that since their encounter with Ignacio, Zevran elected to stay back at camp on guard duty with Sten, instead of venturing into the city... Not that Solona blamed him in the slightest. However, that had changed the moment she had mentioned The Pearl. Which wasn't exactly surprised, given the establishment's certain reputation after all. Though what was surprising, was Leliana had accepted Senga's kind offer of choice _entertainment_ for the evening. Whilst Zevran had opted to spend the night drinking in a corner of the brothel's bar. Solona had readily joined him, and Cadoc snored at their feet. As they sat in a comfortable silence, she couldn't help but admire his handsome face, and her eyes trailed down the lines of his tattoo. Zevran seemed utterly relaxed... not that he ever seemed particularly tense, but there was a certain looseness to his posture. Solona vaguely wondered if Ignacio's comment about the elf being a whore's son, was actually true, which could explain his current easiness. As she pondered, Zevran turned his amber gaze away from his perusal of the bar room... along with it's patrons, and grinned at her.

"Ah, to find the eyes of a deadly sex goddess upon me. I must be blessed, no?" he smirked.

Rolling her eyes, Solona returned his grin. "I'm surprised you're not enjoying the fine services The Pearl has to offer."   
  
She gestured vaguely to the shapely women and lean men, that mingled with the other customers. Since Zevran openly flirted with practically everyone, it was hard to discern what his actual tastes were. Solona was never one to judge someone for their interests, as long as they weren't hurting another, but she could admit to herself, she would be a little disappointed, if Zevran wasn't attracted to women.

"As _enticing_ as these willing bodies are, none hold so much allure as the beauty sitting opposite me," he replied, smoothly.

Chuckling, she shook her head. "You must have quite the history," she found herself saying.

For a brief second, a pensive look seemed to flash across Zevran's bronzed face, but it was gone before Solona could be sure, and his customary smirk came back in full force. Part of her wondered if it was some sort of defence mechanism. She leant her chin on the up turned palm of her right hand, waiting for his reply.  
  
"This could be a sensitive topic, my dear lady, are you sure you wish to voyage there?" he asked.

"I asked, didn't I?" she smiled.

"As you wish," Zevran all but sighed, before chuckling. "Let me start by saying my history is varied, indeed. It should also be noted that is has not been restricted to women. Does that offend you?"  
  
There was a slight quiver undercutting his voice, which was unnerving. It caught Solona more off guard than his revelation did... that wasn't really a revelation at all, given Zevran's flirting. What genuinely surprised her, was that it seemed her companion expected her to react negatively. Gut reaction wanted her to be offended, she was no bigot after all. Tower life may have meant any non-platonic relationships were extremely _discouraged_ , but as far as Solona was concerned, as long as it was consensual, there was nothing wrong with anyone's preferences... or lack there of. But then, when she took a moment to think about it, Solona wondered how many people Zevran had seriously discussed the matter with. Shrugging, she tossed back the remainder of her ale, before signalling the barmaid to bring two more tankards.

"Should it?" she asked, smiling. "Though just to be clear, in case I've drunk too much ale, you enjoy other men?"

Zevran gave an amused snort. "I grew up among whores, my dear. Sex is best when done well, and truly that is my only rule. Do I prefer women? Yes… yes, I believe I do. But you must understand that a certain… open mindedness, is sought by the Crows in their recruits. For very good reasons."

' _Sought or demanded?'_ Solona nearly asked, before thinking better of it.  
  
"I think I understand," she replied, gently.

"I cannot change my past, obviously. And I regret far more than the men and women I have been with," Zevran stated, seriously. "If that is more than you can bare, then it is good we know now, yes?"

Solona's brow furrowed in confusion at his words. If he'd been speaking in his usual, teasing tone, she would have written his words off as some strange flirting. However there seemed an undercurrent to the question, that she could quite fathom. If she hadn't know better, Solona would have thought Zevran was trying to figure if she was interested in him... away from their playful banter, and his obvious good looks. At that moment, the barmaid arrived with their fresh drinks, and Solona absent-mindedly tipped the woman, whilst taking note of the tight set of her companion's shoulders. It wasn't like him at all, which lead Solona to believe, there really was more to this than she could see.  
  
"We all have past," she replied, shrugging. "Though if you really need to know, no. It doesn't bother me, Zev.”

"You're a better person than most,” he replied, seeming to relax. “But enough talk of the past, it is what lies ahead, no? This is a new path I am on now. It will be interesting to see where it leads, already is has been many new things."

Grinning, Solona raised her tankard. "To the road less travelled."

 

 


	10. The Road to Redcliffe (Zevran PoV)

It had been a week since they had left the grimy streets of Denerim behind, and now they were on route to Redcliffe. This day, Morrigan and Sten led their eclectic group. Zevran helped Leliana, Wynne and Cadoc flank the wagon, whilst Bodahn and Sandal kept a wary eye out for bandits. Solona and Alistair were guarding the rear, ensuring the was no ambush from behind. It was not that unusual of a situation, but Zevran's ears twitched at the sound of the ex-Templar's voice. Instinct honed over a lifetime, told him to drop back a few steps, to be able to hear the wardens' conversation.

"I'm wondering something, I'd like to know your thoughts on some of our… travelling companions. Do you mind if I ask?" Alistair said.  
  
"You just did, didn't you?” Solona chuckled. “But go ahead, I don't mind.”

"Zevran, the elf. You can't trust him… can you?" the warrior stated, distaste evident in his voice. "Do you believe his… so called vow?"

Clenching his jaw, Zevran positively bristled, and his hand reflexively went for the dagger strapped to his hip. The oath he had made to Solona had been a truthful one, the vow was to her, and no one else. Sure... he was an assassin, but despite what others might think, he did have integrity. The mage had spared his life, he was indebted to her, it was as simple as that. Even without the threat of the Crows, Zevran knew he would stay by Solona's side. In just a few short weeks, she had treated him with more kindness and compassion than he could every remember receiving. Yes, he was an assassin, but that didn't make him a bad person. However, the ex-Templar's slight at his heritage, set Zevran even more on edge. He wasn't a stranger to racism, after all... though he had not had Alastair down for a bigot.

"Oh, so he's 'the elf' now? Not 'the assassin'?" Solona asked, crisply.

The thought that his warden was annoyed, was oddly pleasing to Zevran.

"Oh, damn it. That's not what I meant," Alistair flustered.

"I would hope not," the mage replied. "But to answer your question, yes. I do."

"Really? Why?” the warrior asked, surprised. “That's a lot of trust to put in someone who tried to kill you.”

Unfortunately, and as loathed and begrudging as Zevran was to admit it, Alistair did have a point. _He_ knew he was being honest with his pledge. He really had no plans on betraying the mage, or harming her in anyway... which extended to her companions by default. Though, as much as Zevran was glad she did trust him, Solona had very little reason to believe that. She had once told him she didn't take the attack personally, but could she really be that forgiving? So far, it had proven true, but call him a sceptic... Zevran was still waiting for the dagger in his back.

"Do you think it's the first time someone's tried to kill me?” Solona replied, matter of fact. "Arguably, you and Duncan gave it a good go. And trust me… the Harrowing is hardly a happy affair."

Alistair hummed thoughtfully. “Well if you are, then maybe I should too.”

Before anything else could be said between the two wardens, Morrigan called out, indicating that a likely camp site had been found for the night. As he went about his now routine jobs, Zevran's mind worked frantically to file away all the relevant pieces of information. First and foremost, Solona really had forgiven him. Which truly spoke of how unusual a person she was. Granted, he had already begun to realise that when she first spared his life, then later, when she didn't appear the least bit bothered by his past sexual exploits. Zevran still wasn't sure why he had admitted so much during their conversation at The Pearl, something about the mage made him lower his guard, and he still wasn't sure why. In a feeble attempt to clear his mind, Zevran shook his head. He had never had a woman cloud his thoughts so much, and it wasn't even just in a sexual sense... which scared him, if he were honest. Not that he didn't want to bed her, far from it. Solona was utterly delectable, and given half a chance, he would gladly seize upon it... But no, it was more than that. Zevran actually enjoyed her company, even when the conversation contained no innuendo what-so-ever. It was a frightening realisation, especially when his mind chose to begin to wonder about what would happen once the blight was over. What would he do? What would she do? Would he still be welcome? It was these tumbling thoughts, that led Zevran to reach out and catch Solona's elbow, as she walked past his newly erected tent. Her smile wasn't flirtatious, or guarded, or calculating, as she turned to him. It was open and honest. A smile that seemed like she was actually glad to see him, to speak with him, even though she carried an armful of books. It was a smile that made Zevran swallow hard.

"Zev, everything okay?"

"I've a question, if I may," he asked, almost hesitating.

Solona glanced at the load she carried. "Of course, but mind if I put these down first?"

"Why, a beautiful lady such as yourself, should not need to carry her own things," Zevran chuckled. "Please allow me."  
  
Without waiting for her reply, he took the heavy tomes from Solona, and was rewarded with a smile even brighter than before. Walking side by side, they headed to the mage's tent, and Zevran could feel Alistair's eyes upon him. Choosing to ignore the ex-Templar... at least for now, he instead knelt, before carefully stacking Solona's books just inside her tent. It bought him time to gather his thoughts, at least until the warden broke the silence.

"So what did you want to discuss?" she asked.

Zevran hummed thoughtfully for a moment. "Here's the thing," he said at last. "I swore an oath to serve you, yes? And I understand the quest you're on, and this is all very fine and well… but my question pertains to what you intent to do with me, once this business is over with. Just as a point of curiosity, you understand."  
  
Now that he had asked, the question and worry seemed even more _juvenile_ than it did in his head. Yet that didn't stop the unexpected churning in his stomach. He dared glancing at Solona, as she seated herself beside him, her brow furrowed in confusion. Zevran watched as she mouthed: Do with you? Before her green eyes suddenly sparkled with mischief, and her smile was back in full.

"Is this before or after I ravish you in celebration?"

Sexual innuendo and suggestive flirting... now _this_ he could do. Zevran outright laughed at her cheeky look, earning himself disapproving glares from both Wynne and Alistair... which was no surprise. Suggestively, he leant closer to the mage, and grinned when she merely batted her eyelashes at him.  
  
"Now… there's a thought. Normally, I'm the one doing the ravishing when it comes to comely lasses. I like it," he smirked. "But you are also distracting me from the point. I said I would serve until you release me. One simply assumes that once your Grey Warden business was finished, you… would have no need for an assassin to follow you about. Am I wrong?"

"I'm sure I will always find a use, or two, for a handsome elf," the mage winked.  
  
Then suddenly, she grew serious, and unexpectedly took both of his hands in hers. Part of his brain marvelled at how soft her skin was, despite the few obvious callouses, from her bow wielding. Out of the corner of his eye, Zevran noticed the ex-Templar glowering at them, though he paid Alistair no heed. Mainly because there was a flash of sadness in Solona's eyes, as she gently squeezed his hands.  
  
"Though seriously, Zev," she continued. "I don't hold you to any oath. You can leave whenever you like."

For a heartbeat, Zevran rocked back on his heels in shock, his mind trying to process what she had said. However, he recovered quickly however, and his trademark smirk slipped effortlessly into place, to hide his surprise.  
  
"Oh? I made the oath willingly, but if that is how you see it then… all the better,” he grinned. “Though, for the moment, it's still best I stay. Considering my standing with the Crows."  
  
Mentally, Zevran applauded himself. It sounded a very plausible excuse... one even _he_ almost believed.

"Oh, of course. It would be a shame to spare your life, only for you to get your handsome self killed, a few short weeks later," Solona teased.

"Exactly!"  
  
His grin faltered slightly, as he subtly sucked in a breath, to steady the nerves he wasn't accustomed to feeling. Why the mage affected him so, Zevran couldn't stay. They hadn't so much as kissed... yet, but the mage made him forget everything he'd ever been taught and trained to do. She even caused him the think and, Maker forbid, possibly feel things he hadn't before. Really, Solona terrified him, much more than any enemy had ever done. He was too vulnerable around her, at any moment, she could slip the proverbial blade between his ribs. And yet, he already couldn't imagine leaving her side. With the _very_ remote chance the warden felt something similar, Zevran decided to place his cards on the table... even as he braced himself for the rejection he was sure to come.  
  
"Though, supposing I didn't desire to leave when the time came, what then?"

"I have no idea what's going to happen after this 'Grey Warden Business' is done, but I would always welcome your company," Solona smiled, easily. "Though why wouldn't you leave, if you had the chance?"

Truthfully, Zevran found he couldn't give a solid answer, none that wouldn't crack his carefully maintained façade. Probably because she had sounded so genuine, when saying she welcomed his company. He couldn't remember anyone wanting him around, with no apparently ulterior motive. His shoulders started to sag in relief, but instead of showing how much he was effected, Zevran turned the movement into a shrug.

"It is simply good to know what my options might be. But that is for another time, for now, we have much to do. Yes?" he replied.

Leliana chose that exact moment to call them all to dinner.

"Like eat," Solona grinned.  
  
Playfully, she pulled him to his feet, gently squeezing his hands one last time, before she turned to join the others. Zevran took a moment to regard the mage. Really, it would not be a bad thing to stay by her side indefinitely... but that was a dangerous and slippery slope. Life and the Crows had taught him, that nothing was permanent... least of all other people in his life. He should be focusing on the here and now, and on enjoying as much of his freedom as he could. They hadn't even so much as kissed, and Solona was already in his head. It wouldn't do. Why was his training failing him? Why was one redheaded mage affecting him so? Not even...  
  
_No!_  
  
Figuring himself alone, Zevran rubbed his face before sighing, only to be answered by a whine near his feet. Glancing down, he regarded the mabari that looked up at him with curious eyes.

"I am losing my touch, my friend."  
  
There was an all-too-happy yap from Cadoc, almost in agreement, that caused Zevran to chuckle. This was turning out to be the most unusual chapter of his life yet, and that wasn't even taking into account fighting darkspawn, or talking to a dog.

 


	11. Revelations (Amell PoV)

Another day's walk had them cresting a hill, before Redcliffe castle finally came into view. It was a fairly impressive structure and was, unsurprisingly, built from reddish-brown stone. A small waterfall gushed down the nearby mountainside, presumably powering the mill, that could be seen in the middle distance. Just as Solona was contemplating the best course of action, for whilst they were in the sleepy looking village, Alistair approached her. He rested his large hand on the small of her back, which gave the impression they needed privacy. Acquiescing easily, Solona let him off to the side. Still within sight of the group but out of easy hearing range.

"I need to tell you something. I… um… should probably have told you earlier," Alistair bumbled.

Holding back a sigh, Solona rubbed the bridge of her nose. The Templar stumbling over his words was usually a bad sign. However, she tried her smile in place, though tactfully turned her back to the rest of their companions. All were perceptive, Leliana and Zevran the most... and naturally they were the two who would hound her for details, should they think anything was amiss.  
  
"I'm not going to like this, am I?" she asked.

"I don't know, I doubt it. I've never liked it, that's for sure," Alistair admitted, fidgeting. "I told you before how Arl Eamon raised me, right? And that my mother was a serving girl at the castle, when he took me in? The reason he did that was because… well, because my father was King Maric. Which made Cailan my… half-brother, I suppose."

Closing her eyes, Solona let the information sink in, before settling on the only reply she could think of: "So… you're not only a bastard, but a royal one?"

Her fellow Grey Warden snorted... in a very princely way, obviously. "Ha! I guess it does at that. I should use that line more often. I would have told you, but it never really meant anything to me. I was inconvenient, a possible threat to Cailan's rule, so they kept me secret. I've never talked about it to anyone. Everyone who knew either resented me for it, or they coddled me. Even Duncan kept me out of the fighting because of it." Sighing wearily, Alistair rubbed the back of his neck. "I didn't want you to know as long as possible, I'm sorry."

"You know... since I'm a mage, you being an ex-Templar, was a fairly sure fire way to make me dislike you,” Solona stated. “If I can look past that, a little royalness is hardly an issue."   
  
She smiled up at Alistair, in the hope of reassuring him, and leant her weight against his arm... not that inches thick armour made it comfortable, but it was a lot let risky than a hug.

"Ah, good. I'm glad. It's not like I got special treatment for it anyhow,” Alistair admitted. “At any rate, that's it. That's what I had to tell you. I just thought you should know about it."

"Are you sure you're not hiding anything else?" Solona teased, smirking.  
  
"Apart from my unholy love of fine cheese, and a minor obsession with my hair? No that's it," he grinned.  
  
"I said _hiding_ ," she chuckled, shaking her head, as she turned back to the rest of the group. "Right!Let's make our way down the hill. Bodahn, you might want to secure the wagon near the windmill. The path looks too steep to make it down. Zevran, Morrigan, you're with me and Alistair. The four of us will head for the castle, the rest of you take a look around the town. Trade for supplies, look to see if there's anywhere we can bed down for the night."  
  
With agreements made, they set off towards the stone bridge that crossed the rapidly flowing water. Only to be halted by a would-be archer, dressed in a faded blue tunic, and seemingly out of breath.  
  
"Ah, I thought I saw travellers coming down the road,” he panted. “Though I scarcely believed it. Have you come to help us?"  
  
"What do you mean? Is there a problem?" Solona asked.  
  
"So you… don't know? Has nobody out there heard?" the man queried, crestfallen.  
  
"There's news Arl Eamon is sick, if that's what you mean?" Alistair replied.  
  
"He could be dead, for all we know,” the man lamented. “Nobody has heard from the castle in days. We're under attack. Monsters come out of the castle, every night, and attack us until dawn. Everyone's been fighting… and dying."  
  
"We'll that's just typical, isn't it," Zevran muttered.   
  
"Apparently, everybody seems to agree that a blight is the perfect time to start killing each other," Morrigan agreed, her voice dripping in sarcasm. "Marvellous, really."  
  
Solona flashed the pair a sly smile, only biting back her laughter for Alistair's sake. His humour, though dry, was not as dark as theirs. However, she already knew they would be helping... talking with the archer was only delaying the inevitable.   
  
"Without the Arl, who is in charge then?" she asked.   
  
"Bann Teagan. I should take you too him, if you will follow me?"   
  
The archer motioned to lead the way, and a nod from Solona had the others following the man, down the steep and winding path.  
  
"Bann Teagan is Arl Eamon's brother," Alistair enlightened them.  
  
"Brother or no, have we not learnt our lesson from agreeing to help strangers, that we meet in our path?" Morrigan drawled.  
  
"And why is that? O magical temptress," Zevran enquired, flirtatiously.   
  
"Because last time we did, a roguishly good looking assassin tried to kill us," Solona laughed, winking.  
  
"Do you have to encourage him?" Alistair grumbled, moodily.  
  
"Ah, my fine strapping fellow, that would imply that your lovely, fellow Grey Warden would need to do anything to encourage my worship of her," Zevran chuckled. "Or do you not see that she is a goddess made flesh. Very fine flesh at that."  
  
"You did that on purpose, didn't you?" Morrigan whispered in Solona's ear.  
  
She grinned impishly at her friend. "Perhaps.”  
  
The witch gave her an approving look. "For a Circle mage, Amell, you are a very wicked woman."

 


	12. Lost Childhood (Zevran PoV)

Whilst the lovelier of the two Grey Wardens discussed the town's situation with Bann Teagan... an averagely attractive and dull sounding man, as far as Zevran was concerned... he took the chance to subtly survey the chantry. It was mostly an unremarkable stone building. The single entrance afforded some tactical advantage to keeping the _evil_ out, whatever that meant around these parts, but it could also serve to make the chantry a mausoleum, should the building be overrun. Another glance around the room confirmed that Alistair was still talking to one of the Arl's knights, and that Morrigan was still engrossed in the old dusty tomb she had found. Solona was still engaged in conversation, so Zevran felt no immediate need to be on guard, until the mage giggled at whatever the Bann had said. The look the man gave his warden made his jaw clench, though he wasn't sure why.

"If I may be so bold, what of you my lady? Are you married?" the Bann asked, pleasantly.

"No, I am not," Solona replied, coyly.

"I find that hard to believe. Surely that is a crime somewhere,” Teagan complimented. “But I am too bold, this is hardly the time for such banter. Please, accept my apology."

"What the Maker for? I'm not offended," the warden smiled.

"You are too kind, my lady. Amongst many other things,” the Bann replied, suggestively.

Normally, this sort of thing wouldn't bother him... far from it. But Zevran had heard enough... If anyone was to charm the beautiful mage, it would be him. Adopting an easy smile, he sidled up to Solona, so close that their bodies were almost touching. Thankfully, the warden readily returned his smile, blessedly oblivious to his inner turmoil.  
  
"Ah, my dear Grey Warden, is it not time to see to the town's defences?" Zevran asked, innocently.

"You are right, Zev," she agreed, amicably. “Bann Teagan, we will see what we can do, and report back to you before nightfall."

With that decided, the pair headed for the exit, and after a slight nod from Solona, Alistair and Morrigan quickly followed. The ex-Templar soon enlightened them about his talk with the knight, and for once, Zevran was content to let the man prattle, since he was thankful to get his warden away from the Bann. He knew he had many charms, but doubted they would stand well against money and estate. However, before they even reached the heavy oak doors, a snivelling young woman caught Solona's attention. Zevran heard Morrigan sigh, whilst he watched as the redhead lay a hand gently on the young woman's shoulder. When the crier looked up, Zevran was astonished with how young she was. She was barely a teen, just a girl really. Even though he had never had a chance at much of a childhood, and the fact the Crows didn't leave opportunity to look out for anyone but himself, upset children always bothered Zevran... He had never been sure why, and it was something that Taliesen had found no end of amusement with.

"Are you alright? Do you need anything?" Solona asked the girl, gently.

"Those _things_ dragged my mother away," the girl snivelled. "I don't know what happened to her, but I hear her screaming, all the time. Everywhere. And now my brother, Bevin, he ran off. I… I don't know where he is. I'm so scared they got him too."   
  
A sob racked the girl's body, as she buried her face in her hands. It was a sad tale, and Zevran felt for her, but what could be done? Nothing, as far as he could see, especial as they had work to do. However, it seemed the mage had other ideas, for she quickly offered to look for the boy. For a moment, Zevran stared at Solona, who paid him no heed, before he glanced at Morrigan. The raven haired beauty was busy rolling her eyes, aparently unsurprised by the warden's offer to help.  
  
"Is she always like this?" he muttered.

"Alas, Amell is sorely afflicted by the driving need to be nice," the witch scoffed. "And I will have no part of it. Time would be better spent scouting the area."

"Good idea," Solona smiled, seemingly finished comforting the girl. "Morrigan, grab Leliana and do a sweep of the town. Alistair, go speak with the mayor. Zevran and I will look for the boy, then we'll meet you at the windmill to talk with Ser Perth."

Despite believing that looking for the child was pointless, he wasn't about to turn down time alone with the mage, and simply shrugged his agreement. It was yet another chance to charm her, after all... if nothing else. Without further ado, they made their way towards the docks, and entered a small house, that presumably belonged to the young woman and her brother. Upon first glance, the building appeared empty. Though after a heartbeat of silence, Zevran's sensitive ears pick up a small sound, coming from the room adjacent to where they stood. Silently, he indicated to where they should head, and a moment later, the pair were stood in front of a large armoire. Quiet whimpering could be heard from inside, and Zevran shook his head, bemused.

"Hello? Who's there?" Solona called, softly.

"Go away. This isn't your home. This is my home. My home, you hear me."

"Bevin? Is that you?" the warden queried, gently.   
  
"How… how do you know my name?" the voice from the armoire asked.

"I'm Kaitlyn's friend. I was speaking to your sister in the chantry," Solona explained, patiently.   
  
"Did she tell you to take me back to the chantry? Don't make me go back there," the boy pleaded, still securely in his hiding spot. "I hate that place. I hate it."

"Why do you hate it?"   
  
Whilst she spoke, Solona pulled up a nearby stood and sat down. Once again, Zevran found himself staring at the mage in shock. The warden was seemingly quite prepared to have a full conversation with a child, _through_ the closed door of an armoire. He couldn't believe the patience she was showing. The way Solona behaved, was a stark contrast to what Zevran had experienced as a young boy. He could remember once hiding as this Bevin did, scared by some raucous revellers in the whorehouse, only to have the doors of the armoire thrown open, and to be forcibly dragged out by one of the whores. He had been beaten so badly, his arm was broken... That was the only sort of childhood he had known, until the Crows bought him. In the dark of the night, Zevran wasn't entirely sure if that was a blessing or a curse. Not wanting to continue down that line of thought, and unable to think of anything else to do, Zevran followed Solona's lead, and perched on the edge of the nearby bed. There didn't seem anything he could do to contribute, so decided to use the time to quietly study his warden. She grew more puzzling by the day, and he wanted to solve her mystery.

"Everybody's scared, but they tell me I shouldn't be scared. And they tell me… I shouldn't be sad that mother died," the boy broke off.  
  
There was muffled sounds from the armoire, that certainly sounded like the child was trying not to cry. Solona hung her head for a moment, sighing quietly. Though he wouldn't admit it, Zevran's heart went out to the boy. He well remember the feeling of being so confused and helpless, his first day with the Crows was not a far off memory for him, certainly in the dead of night. And for some reason, Zevran couldn't help but wonder how his life might have turned out, if he had encountered someone like Solona, when he was a child.

"I don't want to be sad. I'm brave, I'm going to be a hero. I'm going to fight them off, I will," Bevin continued.

"From in there?" Zevran scoffed.   
  
He had meant to speak in a whisper, but his voice came louder than he intended. He watched the corner of Solona's mouth twitch into a smile, even as she gave him a disapproving glare. She moved to stand, as the sound of shuffling came from the wardrobe.

"No… no," the boy relented. "I just heard you coming and... I guess that's not very brave of me, is it?"

With that, a blonde haired boy wearing a white shirt and a brown leather jerkin emerged from the armoire. If it hadn't been for the rounded ears, Zevran would had sworn he was looking at a, less grubby and less bruised, version of his younger self. It was a disconcerting feeling, and he swallowed thickly. The child was trembling, and without hesitation, Solona dropped to her knees, so that her face was level with the boy's.

"Alright, I came out. You won't hurt me, will you?" Bevin asked.

"Of course not," she soothed. "And you are brave, don't let anyone tell you different."

Zevran watched, once again surprised, as the mage held out a hand to the boy, almost as if she was approaching a wounded animal. After a moment's hesitation, Bevin flung his arms around Solona's neck, nearly knocking her of balance. There was no surprise that the boy sought comfort from the warden... she was beautiful and kind, exactly the type of person who was the 'good-guy' in stories. But what did shock Zevran, was how readily Solona hugged the child back. As Bevin began to sob, she simply held him closer, rocking back and forth, whilst humming a comforting tune. The tenderness caused Zevran to look away, unexpected emotion making his eyes unexpectedly sting. The scene was exactly the type of thing he had long for as a child. Comfort. Affection. Someone to be there for him, to chase the proverbial monsters away. Instead, his childhood was a life of being ignored, or beaten, then sold to the Crows like a commodity of low value. Which Zevran supposed he was.

"I'll go back to the chantry, if you want?" Bevin sniffled.

"That would be a very good idea, and Kaitlyn will be happy to see you," Solona agreed, smiling.  
  
Once she stood, the boy immediately went to hold her hand. Zevran inwardly winced, waiting for the inevitable to happen, but the mage didn't push the boy away, or give him a clip around the ear. She accepted his hand, like it was the most natural thing in Thedas to do. Solona even smiled down at the child, when his other hand desperately clung to her robes, which had Zevran fighting the urge to stare at her again. As the three of them headed back to the chantry, he purposefully walked a few paces behind, hoping to clear his head. When the mage gave him a worried glance or her shoulder, he threw her a reassuring smile, hoping she would assume he was just keeping watch. Thankfully, Bevin soon stole the rest of the warden's attention. Occasionally, Zevran's keen hearing picked up the odd snippet of a story the boy was telling Solona... something about a sword, and his Grandfather being a dragon hunter. Mostly though, Zevran was simply lost in thought, as he regarded the pair. An unusual ache had settled in his chest, one that Zevran couldn't decipher. If he were to be honestly with himself, it worried him.

 


	13. A Face From the Past (Amell PoV)

"Hello? Is there someone out there?"

The lone voice that called out from the gloom, twisted Solona's stomach into knots. She swallowed thickly. It had been many months since she had last heard that voice, and Redcliffe's dungeon was the last place she suspected to hear it again. As the voice continued to call out of the darkness, Solona started to cautiously follow the sound. But when the voice quavered with fear, she set off at a run, and left her companions behind. Only the flickering torches lit her path, allowing her to avoided the puddles of Maker-knows-what, along with several scurrying rats. Her search halted at the very last cell, and her stomach dropped. The owner of the voice hauled himself to his feet, using the heavy metal bars of his cage to aid him. He looked terrible, thin and haggard. His robes were torn and his face bruised. Without thinking, Solona reached through the bars, catching his hand, and cast the most powerful healing spell she could muster. There wasn't a day that she didn't mull over what had happened, that last day she was at the tower, futilely wondering if she had done the right thing.

"Jowan?" she croaked, nervously.

"I can't believe it," Jowan huffed. "And here I thought things couldn't get any worse. Brilliant. Go on, have a go at me, if that's what you want. Gloat away."

"I'd never do that," she gasped, her eyes growing wide with shock. "It pains me to see you like this."

"Oh, thank you for your tired platitudes," the other mage hissed. "Whatever would I do without your sympathetic words to carry me through the long, cold nights?"

"I'm sorry Jowan, truly I am," Solona apologised.

"You think that makes it better?! You expect this to be easy, like your whole life has been easy?! Apologise and suddenly we're friends again?!" he shouted. "I've been running since I last saw you. I've slept in ditches, rotten logs, in the rain. I've gone hungry for weeks. I was lost, utterly alone. You expect me to just forget this happened?"

' _Easy?!'_  
  
The word tumbled in Solona's head, practically blocking out the rest of Jowan's rant. How had her life been easy? Sure, she took to her studies easily, mostly out of need to distract herself from the heartache from being removed from her parents. She had suffered the oppressive knowledge, that her life would be spent locked up in the Tower's grey walls, no longer able feel the sun or wind on her skin. Adapting to the situation did not mean she had found it easy, it meant she survived. And how was being a Grey Warden easy? How was dealing with what that bastard Uldred had done to the Tower, easy? Her life had never been easy, she was just strong enough to not only survive, but thrive. A small ball of anger began to stir itself in the pit of Solona's stomach, and her hands unconsciously curled into fists. She was so distracted by Jowan's tirade, that she hadn't actually realised the others had joined her. That was until a bronzed arm flashed past her face, and quickly grasped Jowan by the front of his robes, and bodily dragging him to the bars. Solona took a sideways glance at Zevran, who's face was set like stone.

"I would suggest, my friend, you show the Grey Warden more respect," he all but growled.

"Zev, it's alright.”  
  
Solona lay a hand on the elf's outstretched arm, and squeezed his forearm reassuringly, even though she was unable to meet Zevran's questioning gaze. However, his free hand came up and tilted her chin, so she was forced to look him in the eyes.   
  
"Are you sure, Cariño?" he asked.

His voice held an unexpected softness to it, and Solona found herself simply nodding in response, not daring her voice to speak. After giving Jowan an impressive glare, Zevran relented and released his hold on the mage. Even as Solona pondered over what he had called her. She thought he might have said it before, though she wasn't sure. However, it wasn't the time for idle wondering, and after offering Zevran a hint of a smile, Solona quickly turned her attention back to Jowan. Allowing how incensed she felt about his comment, to seep back into her demeanour.

"You're a blood mage. Only you are to blame for the path you've followed," she stated, firmly. "Though if you would like to play this game, do you know how it feels to have hundreds of you brethren massacred by darkspawn? How it feels to kill an abomination and wonder if that was someone you went to class with, or a child you once mentored. And whilst we are on the subject, was it Uldred who introduced you to blood magic?"

"How did you… no," Jowan stopped himself. "Before I say anything else, I need to ask you a question."   
  
Solona raised her eyebrow, though didn't answer.  
  
"You can do whatever you feel you need to afterwards,” he continued, dropping his gaze. “But I need to know. What became of Lily? They didn't hurt her, did they? The thought that she might have paid for my crime…"

"They sent her away, I don't know where," she admitted, quietly.

"What have I done?" Jowan muttered, before raising his head. "So... here we are again, just the two of us. So what happens now?"

Despite the fact that there were three other people in the dank chamber, Solona understood what Jowan meant. What he was asking. It had always been the same, ever since the day she had been brought to the Tower. The pair had bonded like siblings, and had become a strange sort of family, once Petra had arrived a few years later. It was why Solona had agonized between helping Jowan, and going to Irving, the only father figure she could remember. Either way, she had known she'd be betraying one of them. The burden of that still had not dissipated, often featuring in her nightmares, alongside the archdemon.   
  
"First, I need to know if you are responsible for what's happened here," Solona stated, solemnly.

"I know it looks suspicious, but I am not responsible for the creatures and the killings in the castle. You have to believe me," Jowan begged. "I was already imprisoned when all that began. Not that the Arlessa cared, she had me… tortured, to get me to confess what I hadn't done. When that didn't work, they left me to rot."

"I'm going to guess you are the one who poisoned the Arl... I want to know why,” she continued.

"I was instructed to do it by Teryn Loghain,” he explained, sadly. “I was told Arl Eamon was a threat to Ferelden, and that if I dealt with him, Loghain would settle matters with the Circle. All I wanted was to be able to return... but he abandoned me here, didn't he?"

"And a lot more besides." She turned to Zevran. "Do you think you can pick the lock?"

"As you wish, mi querida," the elf replied.  
  
Solona bite back a sigh of relief, and resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose. She had spent most of her life bailing Jowan out of one problem or another, though she had never imagined their friendship would end up the way it had. Zevran flashed her a quick smile, perhaps sensing some of what she felt, before he set about opening the door. So far, the other two hadn't said anything, though Solona had a feeling that was about to change. Sure enough, Alistair's large hand soon landed on her shoulder. Unable to help herself, she whipped around to face her fellow warden, pushing his hand away. Solona didn't expect Alistair to understand, and though they were friends, part of her had always been wary of his Templar training. She didn't think Morrigan would have too much of an issue with her decision, if any... the witch was brusque, not heartless. And considering how readily Zevran had agreed to help, Solona was fairly sure she had his support.

"Hey, hey. He's a blood mage, you can't just set one free," Alistair argued.

"Is that Alistair talking, or the Templar?" Morrigan sneered.  
  
"Blood mage or no, he's my brother, I won't fail him again," Solona hissed.

"Thank you my friend," Jowan said, almost shyly. "I'm sorry I lashed out at you before, I wanted to blame someone for what's happened to me, but… I know you had your reasons."

Solona turned her back on Alistair, and gave her fellow mage a smile that was tinged with sadness, before Morrigan joined her at the bars. The next five minutes were spent with the three of them debating possible courses of action, which all stemmed from Jowan's revelation about the Arl's son being a mage. The other two remained silent.. Alistair stood off to the side, no doubt brooding, and Zevran meticulously worked away on the lock. Finally there was a very welcome clink, and the door swung open with an ominous creak. Not caring about the stench that emanated from Jowan, Solona pulled him in for a brief but firm hug. It was quickly decided that he would search the nearby cellars for any survivors, whilst Solona and her companions resumed their original course, and headed to the heart of the castle. As they parted, Alistair refused to look at her, and stomped ahead. Though Morrigan offered her a rare smile, before she slipped past and sauntered up the stairs. Jowan followed quickly behind, which left Solona and Zevran alone in the dim passage. The elf halted her assent, by barring the archway with his toned arm.   
  
"Are you alright, Cariño?" he asked, his accented voice surprisingly serious.

"I… will be,” she sighed. "Thank you."   
  
Without thinking, Solona kissed his cheek lightly, just as she would have done to any of her friends back in the Tower. For a moment, the elf looked surprised. Though he quickly recovered, and cupped her face gently with his hands. He shook his head.  
  
"Me temo que usted cuida demasiado, se va a hacer daño."   
  
Then he kissed her.

* * *

**Author's Note:  
** **Spanish translations: Cariño means honey (or affection), used as a term of endearment. Mi querida means my dear/my darling. 'Me temo que usted cuida demasiado, se va a hacer daño' roughly translates to 'I fear you care too much, it will hurt you'.**

 

 


	14. Trouble in the Tower (Zevran PoV)

How he kept ending up in these sorts of situation, Zevran wasn't sure. Then again, it didn't much matter. Not when there was an angry Templar's blade trapped between his two daggers, and the annoying trickle of blood that was steadily running into his glove. As he glared into the brown eyes of his opponent, Zevran thought upon the events that lead up this moment.   
  
Back in Redcliffe's dungeons, he'd kissed Solona. Granted, that hadn't been the ideal romantic setting he'd have preferred, but he just couldn't help himself. It wasn't steamy or erotic, just a rather chaste and fleeting press of his lips to hers, but Zevran was certain that was as good a starting point as any. They had then followed Alistair and Morrigan into the castle proper, whilst Solona's old friend Jowan had gone in search for survivors. Which was so far so good, until they came to the castle's main hall. They had found the root of the evil, the Arl's own young son... and the demon that possessed the boy. There had been lively discussion that resulted in Solona vehemently stating that the suggested blood ritual was the _very_ last resort, and insisting that she would find another solution. Which for the former circle mage, had been to consult the elder in the Tower. Zevran had to admit, he found no fault in her reasoning, and was rather honoured that she requested he join her on the journey. However, it didn't escape his notice, the way Alistair scowled as Solona packed a singular tent. For his part, Zevran had merely gave an amused snorted as he shouldered the pack laden with their other provisions, and strode confidently past the ex-Templar. One kiss did not a seduction make, and he knew Solona's light packing was for practicality, and not any possible debauchery... regrettably.

Unsurprisingly, Cadoc had trotted out beside them, and it had taken a little over a day, to travel the often steep and winding path from Redcliffe to the Tower. Their quick progress was mostly thanks to the two fine mares that Bann Teagan had leant them, though the fine weather undoubtedly helped as well. Crossing Lake Calenhad had also been thankfully uneventful. Though Zevran would never admit just how worried he had been, that magical beasts inhabited the water, regardless of Solona's assurances that no such things existed. Upon arriving at the Tower, everything had seemed fine. A grey bearded man called Irving, had greeted the warden with a wide smile and a warm hug, and even Zevran could recognise the paternal love the man had for Solona. Irving had readily agreed to help save the Arl's son, and assured them that other senior mages would be happy to offer aid. So whilst the First Enchanter went about his business, packing whatever mage's had to pack... Zevran assumed, Solona had offered to show him around her old home. He had happily agreed, imagining it would give insight into the woman he had pledged himself too, and it had. He watched how the children flocked to Solona, as soon as they had entered the Apprentice Quarters. He witnessed the friendly hug she had shared with a fellow redheaded mage, and was impressed with how patiently she had instructed a young elven mage, to create what she called 'werelights'. Slowly, with many stops along the way, they had eventually made it to the Library, and even Zevran had to admit it was an impressive room. He could well imagine a young Solona spending her free hours in the dimly lit space, pouring herself over heavy tomes... much like she enjoyed doing during quiet nights in camp. He had been slightly surprised when she practically made a beeline for a specific book shelf, and quickly produced a large book, bound in red leather and glided with gold leaf. As Zevran 'shockingly' couldn't read ancient Tevinter, the pair had huddled under the flickering light of a nearby candelabra, and Solona began to read aloud in a hushed tone.

That's when it had happened.

They had both looked up as her name was suddenly shouted, expecting it to be someone rushing to greet her, only to see a Templar running towards them, his sword draw. If Zevran was to later explain what had happened next, he would joke about how he was merely protecting his interests... the lovely Grey Warden was his best bet of staying out of the Crows' clutches, after all. However, the truth of the matter was that he had moved on instinct. Stepping in front of Solona, and blocking the man's path to the mage, had been automatic. As frightening and overwhelming as the fact was, Zevran had felt the uncontrollable urge to protect her, something he was sure he would pay for in the future. It hadn't been his finest display of swordsmanship, as he had blocked the encroaching long sword. Sloppiness had allowed the blade to slice over his forearm, but it hadn't cut too deep, and Zevran doubted that the Templar's employed the use of poisons. So permanent damage had been very unlikely, even before he factored in the healing spell, that he could already feel weaving around his body, thanks to Solona. Soon, the sound of heavy mailed boots running, along with the distinct hurried swishing of long robes brushing the smooth, stone floor could be heard.

"Amell, tell your associate to stand down," bellowed a voice, from behind them.

"Not until you get your Templar under control, Knight-Commander," Solona spat, with surprising venom.

"Greagoir, I would suggest you do as the _Grey Warden_ asks," Irving stated, calmly.

"Of course, First Enchanter," the Templar replied. "Cullen, stand down. That is an order."

Reluctantly, his foe followed the command, and Zevran's mind immediately jumped at the idea of sinking his left blade into the man's unprotected neck. It was a tempting prospect, one that assured this Templar wouldn't threaten his warden again. However, as Solona gently squeezed his shoulder, Zevran simply settled on smirking. With exaggerated show, he sheathed his daggers, though kept his hands on their pommels.

"I do not know what your issue is _friend_ ,” he declared. “But rest assured, if you move against the warden again, I will cut you down.”   
  
Cadoc growled as if adding his own threat.

"Do not speak to me, you filthy elf," Cullen hissed, murder in his crazed eyes. "You weren't here, you don't…"

All at once, every candle in the library spluttered, before flaring into brilliant flames. Behind him, Zevran could feel the prickle of heat, evidently emanating from Solona. As she moved past him, a fiery red aura surrounded her, but that wasn't the most unnerving thing. No matter who or what they faced in battle, he had never seen the furious anger that danced in her vivid green eyes, nor the tense set of her jaw. For someone who was so beautiful and usually so sweet, Solona looked utterly terrifying. Her rigid posture and angry stance, her steely will, and the physical presence her aura projected, every inch of the mage screamed raw power. Actual flames began to flicker from her clenched fists, and in that moment, his pretty little warden was awe inspiring... Zevran had never seen anything as sexy.

"How dare you?!" Solona grit, low and dangerous. "You have no right to speak to my friend like that. Or any other elf for that matter."   
  
"Let me handle it, warden," the Knight-Commander requested, hesitantly.  
  
Zevran almost snorted. From his frequent talks with Solona, he was under no illusion that the Templars' would normally not hesitate to strike down a mage, for a lot less perceived threat, than what the warden was showing. The almost wicked smirk that pulled at Solona's lips, indicated she was probably thinking similar thoughts, and for several weighty heartbeats, she simply stared at the man. Eventually she nodded, the aura and flames dissipated rapidly, as she turned her back on the two Templar's. Zevran wondered what it cost her, to pretend she wasn't affected by leaving her back exposed to those that were once her captors. Whatever it was, she hid it well. The only hint was the rigidness that still remained in her posture. However, as her verdant eyes met his, she smiled at him warmly. There was a 'thank you' in her gaze, and unexpectedly she cupped Zevran's cheek affectionately. His eyes widened slightly in surprise, just as the Knight-Commander was demanding and explanation from the young Templar.

"That!" Cullen shouted. "Don't you see? First they tortured me with visions of her, the object of my ill-advised infatuation, and now she mocks me. Evil witch. She let them live, and deserves to die."  
  
Zevran mourned the loss of Solona's touch, as her hand fell from his cheek, and fisted at her side once again. Her eyes widened, with hurt and shock brimming in them. A chill began to radiate off the mage, as a deathly silence surrounded them all. Zevran long to put the young Templar out of his misery, since it was becoming quite clear the man was mad. How he had been allowed to stay in his post, was an utter wonder to Zevran, though it certainly explained a lot about the hardships mages faced every day... it almost made the Crow's seem like a big, happy family. Almost... For her part, Solona barely turned her head, looking more at a nearby bookcase, than glancing over her shoulder at her accuser. Before she had been fire and brimstone, now she was as cold as ice. It was so unlike her, that Zevran knew she was covering her true feelings. He wasn't sure if she had ever returned the Templar's admitted feelings, but it was obvious that the man's words had wounded her.

"Cullen, what happened to you was abhorrent, no one denies that,” Solona stated, almost dispassionately. “But Uldred was to blame, and he is dead, I killed him. Irving was not possessed, and he is not a blood mage, something your Knight-Commander will vouch for?"   
  
“Of course,” Greagoir quickly agreed.  
  
“Irving did nothing that would warrant his death,” she continued. “Nor did the other two mages I rescued. I told you then as I tell you now, I will not take an innocent life. And I have done nothing to mock you, I had the highest regard and respected. We were reading, when you attacked, unprovoked."

"A likely story," Cullen scoffed. "No doubt you were trying to ensnare him with some dark magic."

Unable to hold it back, Zevran outright laughed at the accusations. "Oh, my dear misguided Templar... I can quite assure you, the Grey Warden needs no arcane ritual to enchant me. She already has."

"You see!"   
  
The Templar moved to grab Solona, only to be halted in his tracks, by Zevran's dagger pricking the skin under his chin. No one else moved, and Cullen swallowed audible, which caused a droplet of blood to slide down his neck. Zevran's trademark smirk was firmly in place, even as a dangerous look entered his eyes.

"Yes. You see she managed it quite easily, and very quickly," he continued, conversationally. "This beautiful woman spared me, despite my attempt on her life. She even healed me without recourse, and offered protection from those who had sent me. In return for such remarkable kindness, I vowed to serve her. And, do you know, this _wicked_ woman is so deranged, that she released me from my oath, with our quest barely begun. No qualms, no ultimatums. Just a reassuring smile, and the promise to support whatever I decide. So what is one to do? Elf, human or otherwise. I am her man, without reservation."

And he meant it. Wholehearted.

 


	15. Bedtime Poetry (Amell PoV)

The return trip to Redcliffe was taking longer than Solona would have liked. With the two mares she and Zevran had ridden to the Tower, now being used as a pack horses, it consisted of endless hours of trudging through the dusty mountain roads. As dusk approached, they had made camp in a small clearing, and Solona had dutifully given the sole tent to Irving. After all, it wasn't like she was unaccustomed to sleeping under the stars on a bedroll, unlike her fellow mages. She had the week after fleeing Ostagar to thank for that. However, the altercation with Cullen had left Solona shaken, and the Templars who had accompanied the mages were making her nervous, something she had never felt before in their presences. So she was thankful when Zevran had positioned his bedroll adjoining hers, regardless of the disapproving looks everyone but Irving gave them. As she lay on her side, starring at the dancing flames of the camp fire over Cadoc's back, Solona couldn't help but smile, when Zevran settle down behind her and slipped his bronzed arm around her waist. It was a little unexpected, as they had never been that close... not even the night they had shared a tent during a downpour. However, it was perfectly pleasant, and Solona found herself feeling utterly safe in his arms. Which was rather ironic, she supposed, given how they had met. The sound of tutting and scandalised whispers filled the camp site for a few moments, but she didn't care. There was nothing inappropriate between them, the only intimacy was one brief but enjoyable kiss, and nothing would happen. Well... not until there was some guaranteed privacy, at any rate. A smirk pulled at Solona's lips at the thought, just as Zevran leant over her to murmur in her ear.

"I have a question for you," he stated.

"Oh?"

"How well versed are you in poetry? Antivan poetry specifically," Zevran asked, a smile evident in his voice.

Solona raised an eyebrow. "I know a good poem when I hear it.”

His breath tickled her ear as he chuckled. "Then you won't be hearing it now. It was recited to me, as I recall, by a rather wealthy target of mine."   
  
Slowly, Zevran pulled Solona closer to him, until her back was flush against his well defined chest. It was almost as if he was trying to prevent an escape attempt. It amused her, and she had to bite her lip, in order to stop her smirk from spreading into a grin. Though, part of Solona wondered if it was a worry for him, that Zevran did expect her to wriggle out of his arms, so she entwined her fingers with his hand that rested on her stomach, hoping to quiet any fears he may have.

"I'm not about to run off," she teased, gently.

"You have not heard this poem," he warned, playfully. "Let me see, hmm… The symphony I see in thee, it whispers songs to me. Songs of hot breath upon my neck, songs of soft sighs by my head. Songs of nails upon my back, songs of thee come to my bed."

Solona's eyes widened, and her whole body shook with the effort not to burst out laughing. Whilst Zevran pressed his mouth against her shoulder, evidently trying to control his own laughter.  
  
"Oh Maker!" she whispered, her eyes beginning to water. "Sex poetry? _Bad_ sex poetry!"

"Oh I know, I know," he agreed. "I couldn't believe she actually thought this would convince me to spare her. I had sex with her anyway, but that goes without saying. She still had to die. The poem was amusing at the time however, and thus I've always remembered it."  
  
She rolled her eyes, before glancing over her shoulder at him. "So, you thought you'd try to seduce me with second-hand _bad_ poetry?"   
  
"Mmm, now that is a thought, isn't it?" Zevran whispered, leaning over her. His amber eyes darkening slightly. "Would it work?"  
  
"If you lost the poetry part, it might," Solona grinned.  
  
For a moment, it seemed Zevran was about to move to kiss her again, until there was a disgruntled cough from a nearby Templar, which caused them both to bite back laughter.   
  
"I'll have to bare that in mind. Personally, my preferred methods of seduction are a bit more… tactile." Zevran punctuated his sentence, by running the hand that had been resting on Solona's stomach, down her side. "Here, I just thought you might be cheered up by some naughty poetry. You simply look so, unhappy. Such an unflattering expression for such a lovely face."   
  
Despite his jovial, flirty tone, Solona had caught the brief flash of what seemed like genuine concern in Zevran's amber eyes. It didn't take much to read between the lines, and she guessed this was the only way the assassin knew how to show he cared. She shifted to lay on her back, so she could look at her companion without straining her neck. Looking up into his handsome face, Solona couldn't deny she found Zevran _very_ attractive. And despite him having tried to kill her, she enjoyed his company... perhaps more than she should. However, it was the rare cracks in his teasing bravado, that really caught her attention. On impulse, Solona reach for Zevran's face, her fingertips lightly tracing the sweeping tattoo on his left cheek. A surprisingly tender look entered his eyes, and she doubted he even realised the slip to his mask.  
  
“You think I'm lovely, do you?” she smiled, trying to keep her tone light.  
  
“Who wouldn't? You're the type of woman who stokes the lust in men, and other women alike. Surely you know this, and are playing with me," Zevran grinned. "Me, I tend to make the best of whatever situation I find myself in. Stealing what moments I can. It has served me well most days, you might learn to do the same."  
  
Solona gave him an obviously appraising look. "That would all depend if I had someone worth indulging in, wouldn't it?”

 


	16. A Friendly Proposition (Zevran PoV)

Silently, Zevran slipped into the ornate room, that had been designated as the warden's, and concealed himself in one of the many shadows, that were cast by the dim candlelight. Solona's plan to save to Arl's son had been successful, however it had placed her in considerable risk... risk that Zevran did not think she should be making. And even though she had returned from the Fade triumphant, the Arl still remained deathly ill. Zevran had seen the defeated sag to this warden's shoulders, yet had readily agreed to seek out Andraste's Ashes... a mere myth, as far as many were concerned. Which included Zevran himself, and more surprisingly Solona, who had admitted as much when he'd confronted her earlier. She had remained almost silent throughout the evening meal, something so out of character, that even Morrigan had been throwing the warden concerned glances. So when Solona had announced she was retiring early, far earlier than ever before, Zevran's idea had formed. At one time, the thought of bedding the attractive redhead was merely from a point of enjoyment, and possibly conquest. However, he had grown to truly enjoy her company, perhaps even care for her, and he wanted to do something that would ease her burden. Even if only for a night. It was uncomfortable for Zevran to admit, even to himself, that he wasn't actually sure what a friend should do in this sort of situation. However, he did know where his talents lay. This was how he found himself in Solona's room, silently watching as she entered, dressed in a simple russet tunic that barely skimmed her thighs, instead of her familiar Archon robes. Her red hair was still shining damply from recently bathing, and as she walked towards the roaring fire, her hips swung with their customary appealing sway. Zevran would have been content to observe her for a moment longer, radiant as she was, haloed in the warm glow from the hearth. Until she gave a weary sigh, that was. He tutted to announce his presence, and was impressed when Solona didn't even flinch, just simply glanced over her shoulder at him. Without wasting another heartbeat, Zevran sauntered towards her, until he was close enough the feel the heat radiating from the mage's body.

"You look so tired my dear," Zevran soothed, his voice low. "It's all this constant walking, and fighting. I think I know what you need…"

"Oh? This I have to hear," she quipped.  
  
Solona turned to face him, with the spark returning to her lovely green eyes, despite her evident tiredness. Zevran couldn't explain why he was so delighted, that the warden hadn't taken a step back, instead choosing to merely look up at him, almost through her lashes. He was tempted to run a hand down her cheek, and whisper a fantasy or two in her ear, in order to make her melt into his arms. But no, he was not there to meaninglessly seduce Solona. Zevran wanted the mage to want this… to want him, on her own terms. He merely wanted to let his warden know he was available to her, even though he knew she deserved far better than a lowly assassin. Besides, it wasn't like the stuck up ex-Templar, or the Bann, could give her the service Zevran had in mind.

"My thought is this, we retire to bed, and I show you the sort of massage skills one only learns growing up in an Antivan whorehouse," he suggested.

"A massage?" Solona smirked.

Zevran knew the mage was perceptive, but the offer wasn't actually a euphemism... this time. It was merely an extra, an added bonus to the service her could give her. To prove his honestly, he quickly produced a few small vials from the hidden compartment of his belt, and the golden liquid shimmered in the warm light. There was a flash of emotion in Solona's verdant eyes, and for a moment, Zevran wondered if she was disappointed... but it was gone before he could ask. Suddenly, Solona chuckled.

"That sounds… _really_ good actually," she agreed.

"A willing victim it is," he teased.  
  
Without knowing why, Zevran swallowed thickly, feeling oddly nervous at voicing the next part. Despite their flirting, the way Solona had happily slept in his arms, and the flash of emotion he saw... he wasn't sure what his warden would think of his full offer. However, he pushed away the useless and unwanted feeling, and offered her his hand. As she took it, he walked backwards, slowly leading her to the large four-poster bed. Whilst Solona sashayed across the floor, Zevran settled his bravado firmly in place, praying it would hide the hope he actually felt. He may have bedded many women, and men, before… but Solona Amell was different.  
  
"And if I might ask, if the opportunity to proceed past the massage should present itself?" he flirted.

"Oh, I'm sure I'll think of something," she replied, huskily.   
  
Her tone shot straight to Zevran's groin, and his pulse raced a little faster, when she lay a hand across his chest, directly over his heart.  
  
"Besides," Solona continued, smiling. "It's not like I could resist you."   
  
Despite all his vast experience, Zevran felt his breath stutter, as she leant towards his ear, causing her breath to send an unexpected shiver down his spine.   
  
"My handsome, Antivan assassin," she whispered.  
  
Solona's sentence was punctuated by seductively lick, that followed the tapered curve of Zevran's sensitive ear. It took a considerable amount of self-control, more than he cared to admit, not to outright moan at her careful attention. However, it was her words… well, one in particular, that had thrown him off balance. Yet he chuckled to hide his surprise, before pulling her roughly into his embrace. Why one word settled an unusual ache in his chest, Zevran wasn't sure. What he was certain of though, was that he had definitely gotten more than he expected with the beautiful mage, and he was more than happy to be _hers_.

 


	17. The Promise (Amell PoV)

Though she would never admit it, to save his pride if nothing else, Solona noticed how Zevran's breath had caught, when she called him 'hers'. It had taken more willpower than she liked, to control the smirk that had wanted to form. For all his teasing and bravado, who would have thought that simple word, would trip up the assassin? Certainly not her... not that it mattered. Since she now lay face down on the sumptuous red eiderdown, naked as the day she was born, with the lean yet well-muscled Antivan, straddling her hips. Solona let out a contented moan, as Zevran's nimble fingers smoothed out another knot in her shoulders, muscles that she hadn't realised were causing her discomfort, until that very moment. The rich fragrance of the warm oil teased her sense of smell, heavy rose with an alluring under-note, one that Zevran had called ylang-ylang. Solona sighed again, as his surprisingly soft hands glided to her other shoulder, and she let her mind drift back to slightly earlier in the evening. They had stood next to the ornately carved, mahogany bed, and undressed each other slowly. The act of removing an item of clothing was punctuated by a gentle caress, or whispered endearment, even the occasional light, teasing kiss but never anything heavy or frenzied. It had almost been romantic, which was not something she had been expecting from the assassin. Solona had always imagined, that if she were to ever succumb to Zevran's charms, it would have been all fire and passion. Never something as soft and gentle, as what had taken place so far.

"Te ves preciosa, mi querida," Zevran whispered.  
  
His warm breath ghosting over her ear, brought Solona back to the present. Smiling, she pushed herself up on her forearms, and glanced over her shoulder at the handsome elf. His eyes unceremoniously fell to the curve of her breasts, that the shift in position had revealed.  
  
"One day, you're going to have to teach me Antivan," she told him, glibly.

"Si, Cariño," he grinned.

Solona had felt the obvious sign of Zevran's arousal, lightly pressed against her lower back, throughout the massage. However, it was the look in his amber eyes, that made her fully aware of his desires. It made Solona realise he wanted _her_ , not just any willing companion, and the realisation sent unexpected butterflies, fluttering around her stomach. She had told him earlier, that she would be sure to think of 'something', should the opportunity... arise, and Solona was certain that it was the perfect moment to do so. Even though she was hardly a virgin... since it was surprising how much mischief you could get up to, without the Templars or senior mages realising, Solona would never have considered herself a bold person. However, she found herself rolling onto her back, whilst Zevran still knelt above her. Slowly, she ran her hands down the toned expanse of his chest and abdomen. Her eyes eagerly followed, drawn to the sweeping tattoo along his left side, whilst she vaguely noticed the marked the difference, of her porcelain pale skin against his bronzed hue. Snaking a hand up and around the back of his neck, enjoying the light tickle his blonde hair caused across the back of her hand, Solona pulled him closer.

Gazing up at him from beneath her lashes, she felt her heart begin to race slightly, and her lips tingled in anticipation. All their previous kisses had been quick, flirty affairs, and she had completely different plans for this one. Being this close to Zevran, Solona noticed the spattering of darker flecks in his vivid amber eyes. Distantly, the sound of a guard's rhythmic patrol of the corridors reached her ears, though it did nothing to distract her from the elf, who held himself mere inches above her. The exotic smell of him, a scent reminiscent of Sandalwood and faint notes of leather, mingled with the heady perfume of the massage oil, that still lingered on Solona's skin. The scant space between their bodies seemed electrified to her. As Zevran closed the remaining distance, his warm skin pressed flush against hers, which was a pleasant and tantalising weight. The firm length of him teased her own arousal, as his full lips finally met hers. Feeling his tongue ghost along her lips, Solona opened her mouth instinctively, and her own tongue started a languid dance with his. The faint, minty taste of him assaulted her senses. As their kiss deepened, a sigh escaped her, just as she felt Zevran groan into her mouth. The sound was so unbelievably erotic, that Solona found her body respond to him on it's own volition, as she slightly bucked against him. Unsurprisingly, Zevran chuckled against her lips, even as he pressed his hips into hers, mimicking her movements from moments before. In retaliation, she cheekily ran her tongue across the curve of his bottom lip, in a brazen lick.  
  
"It seems you are eager, my dear Grey Warden,” Zevran teased.

"Like you're complaining," Solona retorted.

"Not at all, mi tentadora," he agreed, giving her collar bone a playful nip. "And as delightful as our present… position is, I must ask, are you sure you want this?"

A vague, far off part of her brain, reminded Solona she 'should' be scared of Zevran. He was an assassin who had been sent to kill her, and if he were so inclined, she knew the Antivan could kill her before she could call enough mana to protect herself. However, as Solona looked up at him, taking in Zevran's dishevelled blonde locks, that had escaped his customary braids and hung loosely around his face, she couldn't help smile at the elf. During their heated kiss, their bodies had shifted in position, and he now lay between her legs. Grinning at him wickedly, something Solona was sure he'd appreciate, she hooked a leg up around his waist, and pulled him impossibly closer. His obvious arousal pressing against her own.

"Answer your question?" she asked, almost mockingly.  
  
Zevran's answering groan, sent an unexpected shiver down Solona's spine.

"Impatient," he scolded, in a strained pant against the crook her neck. "You will get your way, _this time_ , mi querida. Though I _will_ have you begging later."

She didn't have time to wonder if that was a threat or a promise, because in one swift and precise stroke, Zevran hilted himself inside her. Solona couldn't help but gasp, surprise and pleasure both colouring the sound, as her back arched off the bed involuntarily. Opening eyes that she hadn't realised she'd closed, Solona looked up at her lover... for there was really no other word for him now. He wore a wholly too-self-satisfied smirk.

"Ass," she chuckled.

"Like you're complaining?" he mimicked, grinning.

Any retort Solona planned to make, died with a fluid roll of his hips. The slide of him, the heated friction... it felt better than she could imagine, much better than any of the trysts she had experienced before. Not that she planned to tell him, he had a big enough ego as it was. So instead, Solona gave Zevran a rueful smile, before deftly running her tongue, along the tapered curve of his left ear. To her delight, it caused his steady rhythm to stutter, if only for a moment. It was oddly satisfying to know she affected him so, especially with the copious amount of lovers she knew he had. He looked at her, mildly surprised, before she gave a wink, and set a faster rhythm. It was a pace that Zevran matched easily, though there was no surprise. Though without warning, he shifted Solona's right leg to rest over his shoulder. The deeper angle caused her to moan in pleasure, perhaps a little louder than she cared to admit. His knowing smirk didn't bother her one iota, though she was still determined not to let him have the upper hand for long. Grinning wickedly, Solona channelled a small ice spell into her fingertips, and lightly trailed them down his side. She was rewarded by another stutter in his pace, and childishly, she claimed that as a victory.

"Cheat," he chuckled, into her hair.  
  
"I thought you were a master lover, Zev," she goaded. "You're going to have to do better than this, if you hope to impress me."

The fact that it took a lot of effort on Solona's part, not to sound out of breath, was merely a side note. For a fleeting moment, she could have sworn Zevran's eyes widen, but the look was soon replaced by amusement. Solona wasn't sure when it had become a game, though she certainly couldn't remember a time when sex had been so fun or relax. There was something uniquely special about the Antivan assassin, Solona was sure of it. How else could she explain why an act that was so intimate in nature, seemed so companionable with him? The fact they could still banter with each other like normal, was a little surprising, slightly endearing, and very enticing. Not that she was inclined to let Zevran know her thoughts, not any time soon at least.

"Oh I intend to," he grinned, mischievously.  
  
Solona almost held her breath, as Zevran's lips moved close to her right ear, and his warm breath elicited a delightful shiver from her.   
  
"This is merely a warm up, Cariño... I promise."

* * *

 

 **Author's Note:**  
 **"Te ves preciosa, mi querida" roughly translates to "you look ravishing, my dear", "Si,** **Cariño" means "Yes, honey/hunny", and "mi tentadora" translates to "my temptress". I'm using Spanish for Antivan as it seems the most similar/plausible language.**

 

 


	18. A Rude Awakening (Zevran PoV)

Loud, steady knocking dragged Zevran from sleep. An Antivan curse formed on his tongue, before his brain registered the warmth pressed against the length of his body. After opening an eye, Zevran found the grey light of dawn had barely begun to filter into the room, and his gaze quickly fell to the tousled red hair of his companion. The knocking turned into heavy pounding, and slowly Solona groaned, evidently only just returning from the Fade. The small, disgruntled sound caused an unexpected warmth to bloom in Zevran's chest, the type he hadn't felt before. Though he had little time to consider the feeling, as a solid weight suddenly thumped the door, drowning out the insistent pounding.

"Alright, alright," Solona called, groggily. "I'm awake. Give me a moment."

Briefly, Zevran wondered if it been wrong to stay the night. Granted 'night' was a strong word, since their _activities_ lasted well into the early hours of the morning. But still… he had grown up knowing he had to take his pleasure whenever he could, knowing they were merely fleeting moments, and knowing to leave once the deed was done. Yet he _had_ stayed, as he had felt unable to leave Solona's side, and the strange heaviness in his chest still would not abate. Unexpectedly, the warden leant up and brushed a soft, chaste kiss to his lips. It was almost affectionate in nature, which was a foolish notion. She smiled up at him, and gently stroked his tattooed cheek, before she pushed herself out of his arms, and slipped out of bed. He tried to ignore how his heart pounded at her pleasant greeting, and the tenderness in her gaze. The only other person to ever be happy to see him the morning after was… Zevran shook his head, and pushed the thought aside. Instead, he chose to busy himself, with propping his head up, to watch Solona's naked beauty, as she sauntered towards the heavy oak door. She slipped on a deep blue, silk robe that hung from a nearby hook, then opened the door. The moment she did, Solona was knocked aside, as an eager mabari bounded into the room. The hound immediately jumped up onto an armchair near the hearth, rather the charging for the bed, something that Zevran was certainly thankful for. His mouth quirked into a smirk, as he noticed Cadoc's eagerness had managed to slightly shift Solona's robe, revealing a tantalising amount of cleavage.

"Oh… um… er…" a male voice stuttered, hidden behind the door.

"Alistair? You're looking awfully red. Are you feeling unwell? Do you need me to make up a potion for you?" Solona asked, sweetly.

The minx sounded far more cheerful, than the ungodly hour should really permit, and Zevran valiantly bit back a chuckle. He could well image the shade that the ex-Templar had turned, and had a feeling the silken robe, and Solona's ample assets, had everything to do with it.

"No, no. It's nothing like that. Um… really it could have waited, I suppose, but erm…" Alistair bumbled, only halting his wave of speech, when Solona tried to stifle a yawn. "Oh. I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to wake you. Are you okay? Did you not sleep well? Was it nightmares again?"

The gentleness in the Templar's voice struck a chord with Zevran. It was evident Alistair was genuinely worried about his fellow Grey Warden, which only twisted the heaviness in his chest. Once again, he wondered if it was wrong to fall asleep with Solona in his arms. It had felt _right_ , but Zevran knew he had overstayed his welcome. He wasn't her lover, not in the deeper meaning of the word, and certainly not her partner. Sighing quietly, so he didn't alert Alistair to his presence, Zevran screwed his eyes shut, silently cursing himself. He knew his place, as much as he hated to admit it. He was merely a tool, something to be used. He had come to Solona last night, for the sole purpose of her using his body to relieve her tension. Granted, she hadn't asked, but the facts were still the same. With that in mind, Zevran realised how selfish it was for him to stay. Solona had a lot to lose, should her dalliance with an elf, a former Crow no-less, ever be known. Whereas he had nothing, _was_ nothing. Nothing but a pathetic son of a whore. Suddenly, a soft hand cupped his face, and halted the self-hatred. Despite his common sense, Zevran snaked his arms around Solona;s petite frame, and pulled her silk wrapped body closer to his bare skin. Though he would never admit it, he breathed in her scent. The fragrance of the massage oils still clung to her skin, as did the scent of their passion. She idly traced the sweeping tattoo that snaked along his side, and her gentle ministrations had Zevran forcing himself not to shiver in pleasure. Her touch was more enjoyable than it had any right to be.   
  
"What on earth is going on in that head of yours?" Solona asked, kindly.

"Nothing of importance, Cariño," he lied. "Though I do wonder what Alistair wanted. I admit, I may have dozed off while you talked." It was another lie, but it was better than burdening her with the truth.

"Oh, he just wants to set off on the hunt for the ashes as early as possible, whilst not actually realising how early it still is," she chuckled. "I mean, the sun isn't even fully up yet, for Maker's sake!"

"And who are you taking on this quest?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"Alistair, obviously. He'd probably go searching for it on his own if I didn't, and Leliana would never forgive me if I didn't bring her. Purely on the off chance the ashes _are_ real, which I honestly doubt," Solona explained.

“Cadoc will be your fourth member, no?" he asked, with faux nonchalance.

"Actually, I was hoping you would be willing,” she admitted. “Maker knows there's only such holy reverence I can take, before I feel the need to set something alight! You'd be keeping me sane. Though if you'd prefer to stay here…"

"How could I say no to such a beautiful woman as yourself," he interrupted. "And with that decided, as the priestess so famously said to the handsome actor, what now?"   
  
To Zevran, even though asked in his usually jokey manner, it was a serious question he needed to know the answer to. He enjoyed spending time with Solona, much more than he should, but he needed to build the wall back up, to protect against the inevitable rejection. Since realistically, a one-night-stand was more than his kind was worth, especially to a woman like the warden.

"Priestess? Actor? Huh? Actually, never mind," she smiled, shaking her head. "What now... that I understood, and I was about to ask you the same."

Smirking, he brushed aside a few errant strands of hair from her face. It was merely to stall for time, so he didn't accidentally blurt out what he actually wanted to say. Admitting he'd most likely make a deal with demon, just to spend another night with her, was hardly a good idea... especially to a mage.

"Allow me to make it simple my lovely Grey Warden," he said instead. "What comes next, is _entirely_ up to you."

"Zev," Solona chided, her green eyes narrowing slightly.

"Cariño, I was raised to take my pleasures where they could be found, for they do not come very often. I shall ask nothing more of you, than you are willing to give," Zevran explained, solemnly.  
  
Surprisingly, she smirked. "And what if I'm willing to give more than you can handle?"

"You saucy minx! We have come very far from those early days from when I tried to kill you, and you decided not kill me," he laughed. "Fate is such a tricky whore, isn't she? At any rate, we should be on our way. A new day awaits us, or so the rumour goes."  
  
Zevran reluctantly sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, not liking how the chilled, early morning air assaulted his naked skin. He felt an unexpected kiss press against the back of his shoulder, over the top of a prominent scar, one he had received thanks to one of the Crow's more _enthusiastic_ masters. His breath hitched. As a rule, Zevran didn't let anyone see his back, especially lovers. The scars were many and unattractive, they prompted too many questions, and too many memories. He had hoped the room was still too dark to reveal them, since his usual method of hiding them, was to be gone before they could be seen. Zevran still didn't know why he had broken this with Solona, and he swallowed thickly, waiting. But thankfully, she merely chuckled and wrapped her arms around his neck from behind, and placing another kiss to his cheek. Zevran almost sighed in relief.

"You know... one day, I'm going to sit down and write a book titled 'Zevranisms',” Solona stated, deadpan. “It will be filled with all the profound Antivan sayings you like to share, only with added, detailed translation. So no other poor Ferelden has to suffer like I do.”

 

 


	19. A Dragon's Tail (Amell PoV)

"This is a Maker damned joke!" Solona muttered, angrily.  
  
Quickly, she shrugged off her woollen cape and unslung her bow. The journey had been one disturbing, blood drenched folly after the other. First the unsettling blood alter in one of the homes in the village, and then the boy carrying a human finger bone in his pocket, like a good luck charm. Not to mention the insane priest, who had spouted rambling nonsense and tried to kill them. Along with being attacked by the crazed villagers, who acted more like rabid beasts than sentient creatures. Which was naturally followed by a pack of deranged cultists trying to kill them. Now, to ice the proverbial cake that Haven had turned out to be, a high dragon was _also_ trying to kill them. Beside her, Zevran threw off his own cape in a flourish, before brandishing he sword and dagger.

"Cariño, may I suggest somewhere slightly less lethal for our next date?" he quipped.

"You trying to tell me you don't find imminent death romantic?" Solona retorted.

She hated killing animals, particularly dragons, but there was very little they could do. The dragon had attacked first, so they had to defend themselves. So aiming true, Solona shot and an arrow embedded in their foes neck, and with a roar loud enough to start an avalanche, the purple beast spun. It's heavy tail slashed in a wide arch, thankfully missing herself and Leliana completely, due to distance. Zevran practically danced out of harm’s way, his movements graceful yet calculated. Though in sickening slow motion, Solona watched as the swiping tail caught Alistair full in the chest, and hurled the warrior across the dilapidated ruin they fought in. As her fellow warden made contact with a partially intact wall, the sound of crunching bone sounded in Solona's ears, though it was muffled beneath her scream of Alistair's name. A hand quickly squeezed her shoulder, and she glanced to the side, just in time to see Leliana exchange her customary daggers for the bow she had taken from Marjolaine, several weeks previously.  
  
"Go. I will cover you," the rogue proclaimed.

With a grateful nod, Solona set off towards Alistair, as if a horde of darkspawn were on her heels. In the back of her mind, she was thankful that Duncan had convinced her to abandon the long Circle robes, all those months ago. She suppressed the urge to squeal in shock, as she crashed to her knees, the cold snow creeping up and over the top of her long boots, as she sank to her thighs in the blood flecked drift. Ripping off her gloves, Solona reached for the broken figure of her friend. Alistair's body was lying in such a crumpled heap, that it was a wonder he was still breathing. Her hands glowed with a pale green light, as she released the first of her healing spells, which quickly turned blue, as she cast Regeneration. Finally, the warrior let out a groan.

"Oh thank the Maker," Solona huffed.

However, an Antivan curse quickly ended her relief. Turning back towards the fight, she watched as Zevran leapt up on to the sole window ledge of the ruin, barely escaping the dragon's snapping jaws. Anger flashed through Solona, as she unleashed a hastily cast Crushing Prison, and it wasn't until she was conjuring a Fireball, that her mind finally caught up with her actions. After a quick check to make sure that Alistair was regaining consciousness, Solona rushed back to the open space inside the ruin, she retrieved her discarded bow as she went, and only halted when she was back at Leliana's side. With practised eased, the two women barraged the dragon with synchronised arrows, until both their quivers were depleted. Whilst Zevran made well timed hacks and slashes with his poisoned blades, whenever an opening was presented. Just as Leliana was about to replace bow with blades, Solona grabbed her wrist, starring in awed shock at the battle field. She watched mesmerised, as Zevran leapt up onto the ruin's window ledge once more, only to bound off again, grabbing one of the dragon's pink tinged horns, and sunk his sword into the beast's skull. With an agonised roar, it shook it's head trying to dislodge the assassin, who merely sunk a dagger into the dragon's bloodshot left eye. For a heart stopping moment, Solona thought the elf would be trapped under the beast, as it thrashed it's death throws, however Zevran merely barrel-rolled out of harm's way, as the dragon's body finally crashed to the ground. A plume of dry snow was thrown up in a cloud, just as Solona released the breathe she hadn't realised she was holding. Without thinking, she threw her arms around the elf's neck, as soon as he came close enough to reach. For a moment, Zevran seemed surprised, if the rigid posture of his stance was anything to go by. But then his arms wrapped around her waist, and he pulled her into a tight embrace.

"Las cosas hago para usted," Zevran murmured, into her hair.

Solona was about to ask what he meant, before another voice cut through her thoughts.

"It seems I missed all the fun," Alistair stated, groggily.

Looking up from where her head was buried in the assassin's neck, Solona watched as the ex-Templar nudged the dragon with the toe of his boot. His back was to them, which meant he was oblivious to the hug she was sharing with Zevran. Gently, she slipped out of his hold, but planted a quick kiss on his cheek. It wasn't that Solona was ashamed of what they shared, it was more that she had no idea _what_ exactly it could be called, should anyone ask... which Alistair certainly would. She and Zevran had only slept together once, several days ago, not that she wouldn't enjoy a repeat of that night. However, the two of them sharing a tent with Alistair and Leliana for warmth, made that impossible until they were back in Redcliffe. Which was another week away at least. As Solona walked past, Leliana gave her a knowing look, one that she returned with a beaming smile. No. Definitely not ashamed. She was merely too bone weary, to try and find a delicate way of explaining the situation, should Alistair notice and start asking questions. So once she reached the ex-Templar, who was still examining the dragon corpse, Solona gently wrapped her arms around his armoured waist from the side. In reply, Alistair wrapped an arm around her shoulders, thankfully managing not to dig the edge of his metal gauntlet into her spine, as he so often managed to do.

"Don't do that again,” she scolded. “You're the only brother I've got, I like you alive."

Alistair chuckled. "No getting injured from dragon attacks. Got it." He kissed the top of her head, in his usual absent-minded way . "I can't believe a high dragon swooped down on us. I always knew swooping was bad."

"Of course you did," she laughed, humouring him. "And whilst you were napping, the rest of us did the hard work. Zevran got the killing blow, it was pretty amazing."

Solona turned to grin at the elf, only to find him staring at her. All trace of his usual cheek and cheerfulness was gone. If she hadn't known better, Solona would have sworn he was scowling.

* * *

**Author's Note:** **  
'Las cosas hago para usted' translates to 'The things I do for you'.**

 


	20. The Uncomfortable Truth (Zevran PoV)

There was a time Zevran would have laughed, watching someone talk to… well, 'spirit' was the only word he could think to describe the guardian. However, he was still in turmoil over witnessing Solona and Alistair together. He already knew the two wardens were close, but the way they had acted after the dragon, had aggravated him the remaining trek up the treacherous mountain. The fact he didn't know _why_ it bothered him, hadn't helped his darkening mood. But then again, neither had the snowstorm that had closed in around them. And now they stood shivering in the draughty, cobweb covered entrance hall, of the Shrine of Andraste. All the while, Solona conversed with a spirit, like it was the most normal thing in the world. Then again, she was a mage, so perhaps it _was_ an ordinary occurrence for her. However, Zevran was so lost in his inner monologue, that he missed most of the warden's conversation with the guardian. It was only the tensing of her shoulders, caught out the corner of his eye, that brought his attention fully back to the scene in front of him. Solona brushed the back of her hand across her cheek, and it was only then that Zevran realised she was crying. His stomach dropped.

"Yes," she whispered. "I thought telling Irving was the right thing to do, that he could help Jowan. I was wrong, I betrayed him."

"Thank you. That is all I wished to know," the guardian replied, emotionless.

"You are too hard on yourself. No one is perfect," Alistair soothed, much to Zevran's chagrin.

"You could not have known what would happen," Leliana consoled, taking Solona's hand. "You did what you thought was best."

The whole scene irked Zevran sorely. He was angry at the guardian for whatever was said, that had upset the warden, and annoyed at himself, that it bothered him so much. He'd seen plenty of people cry, men and women alike, he'd probably made a fair few cry as well. However, he still wanted to comfort Solona, to take her in his arms and hold her, to let her cry and unburden herself. Though in present company, he doubted that would go over well. Nor did he think she would appreciate seeming so vulnerable in front of the others, so instead, Zevran settled for sarcasm.

"And now the self-flagellation?” he asked, flippantly. “For that is what comes next in these things, no?"   
  
The words came out more bitter than he had intended, which earned him scowls from both Alistair and Leliana. It also seemed to earn him the ire of the guardian as well, for the spirit suddenly rounded on him.   
  
"And the Antivan elf. Many have died at your hand, but is there any you regret more than a woman by the name of…"

Zevran's eyes widened in shock. "How do you know about that?" he demanded.

"I know much," the spirit replied, cryptically. "It is allowed to me. The question stands, however. Do you regret…"

"Yes!" Zevran grit out, through clenched teeth. "The answer is yes," he repeated, and crossed his arms across his chest defensively. "If that is what you wish to know. I do. Now move on."

Swallowing hard, Zevran's gaze focused on a section of broken flag stone, they lay beneath his feet. Silently, he fought to keep his breathing even and his hands from shaking. He refused to show how unsettled he felt. 'Show no weakness' was the Crow's mantra, and he repeated it over and over in his mind. He couldn't fathom how the spirit had known about that fateful night, what had transpired, and what he had done. His days and nights had been plagued by guilt and memories since it had happened, something that had only began to wan, once he met the beautiful warden. Shaking his head, Zevran bit back an angry sigh. The guardian's question had re-opened the barely healing wounds on his soul. It had re-established his self-loathing, and reminded him how truly unworthy he was of Solona's attention. Zevran's mind was in such turmoil, that he barely caught the guardian speaking with the other two. Something regarding Leliana and the Chantry, as well as Alistair and Duncan... the latter only vaguely sinking in, because it mentioned of the man that Solona also held dear. He hadn't realised that the guardian had faded from sight, or that the others hand moved through the now unbarred doorway, until he felt a gentle hand wrap around his right bicep.

"I don't know what that was about, and I won't pry. Just know you can talk to me if you need to," Solona said, softly.

"Cariño, no merezco tu bondad," he replied, quietly.   
  
He shut his eyes, to ward off a flood of emotion, the warden's warm hand cupped his right cheek, and her lips gently caressed the left. The soft floral scent of her, the heat of her body, momentarily chased away the bleakness he felt. All too soon the sensation was lost, and he opened his eyes to watch her walk towards Alistair and Leliana, who were trying to light torches, in order to illuminate the dark corridors that lay ahead. As Solona neared them, she stopped and turned to face him. A small smile formed on her lips, as she held out her hand to him. Zevran's feet moved on their own accorded, and he soon found himself reaching out to grasp her hand. Swallowing past the lump threatening to form in his throat, he was infinitely glad that Solona didn't mention how his hand trembled, as his fingers laced with hers.

"It will be okay." Was all she said, before pulling him to join the others.

* * *

**Author's Note:  
** _ **'** _ **Cariño, no merezco tu bondad' roughly translates to 'Honey, I don't deserve your kindness'.**

 

 


	21. Baptism of Fire (Amell PoV)

Biting back a sigh, Solona closed her eyes and tried to calm herself. She had thought, after beating every challenge the shrine had thrown at them so far, that things couldn't get worse... or weirder. Oh, how wrong she had been. Exhaling a carefully controlled breath, Solona re-read the text in front of her, again.

**Cast off the trappings of worldly life and cloak yourself in the goodness of spirit. King and slave, lord and beggar; be born anew in the Maker's sight.**

Sceptically, Solona glanced from the altar, to the flames, and back again. For good measure, she also re-read the carved text... Fifth time was a charm, right? Unfortunately, it still contained the same exact words. Unable to resist the urge to sigh this time, Solona pinched the bridge of her nose, as she tried to stave off the impending headache, whilst begrudgingly unslinging her bow and quiver. After all the stupid trails that hampered their way through the shrine…

"The Maker is a damned pervert,” she muttered.

"What do you… oh," Leliana paused, as she read the altar's transcript. "I see…"   
  
Solona shared a look with her fellow redhead, before the rogue began to deftly unbuckle the belt that held her daggers in place around her hips. Glad that she evidently wasn't the only one the reach that conclusion, Solona began to untie the knotted ribbon that held her corseted bodice together.

"Alistair, Zev? Leli and I are going to be baring all in the name of Andraste, so could you please be gentlemen, and turn your backs for a while?" she asked, flippantly.

"What…"   
  
Whatever Alistair was going to say, trailed off as he flushed an interesting shade of crimson. Knowing the ex-Templar, he had undoubtedly only just realised the two women were undressing. Zevran merely chuckled, his eyes roving unabashed over Solona's barely clothed figure, as she shrugged out of her robe. He gave her a wink, before clapping Alistair on the shoulder, and ushering him towards the chamber door.

"What a terrible time to need to be a gentleman," the Antivan drawled. "But for such lovely ladies, we will endeavour to keep any nosy guardians at bay.”

Catching herself smiling fondly at the elf's retreating back, Solona shook her head, and divested herself of her final articles of clothing. She gave Leliana a nervous smile, before regarding the flames with trepidation. Planning to willing walk through a room of fire, had to be one of the most idiotic things Solona had ever done. Perhaps Leliana agreed, because she suddenly clasped her hand tightly.

"Worried?" the rogue asked.

"Terrified," Solona whispered in reply. "One… Two… Three."

Without letting the other go, the two women began to walk through the wall of fire. Surprisingly, the flames brushed their skin with no more than a slight tingle of warmth. However, caution still made them go slowly, lest some previously unseen trap awaited them. It really wouldn't have surprised Solona in the least, the whole shrine had been on headache after another. Eventually, them came to a flight of stone stairs, that had previously been hidden by the towering flames. Their fingers remained tightly intertwined, as they started to ascend. When they reached the apex, they were greeted by the sight of a beautifully carved marble statue, with a golden urn nestled at it's base. Leliana gasped, her crystal blue eyes brimming with unshed tears.

"I never believed I would lay my eyes on the Urn of Sacred Ashes," she whispered, reverently. "I… I… I… have no words to express…”

Solona squeezed her hand, smiling. "Take a moment.”  
  
Gently, she extracted her hand from Leliana's, before carefully removing the urn's ornate lid. She regarded the grey ashes sceptically, seriously doubting that they would bring the miracle cure the Arl needed... though stranger things had happened, Solona supposed. Gently she took a pinch of the powder, cupping it in both her hands, and hoped no particle would escape her grasp, before she managed to secure the remains in the velvet pouch, that lay with her discarded robe. As they turned to make their way back across the chamber, it became evident that the flames were beginning to recede, which made their path clearer. However, it wasn't until Solona was lightly brushing the palms of her hands together, over the pouch that Leliana held open, that she finally let out a relieved sigh.

"You were successful, no?" Zevran called over his shoulder.

"Let's just hope it was worth it," Solona replied.  
  
She began to hurriedly redress, though her actions were halted, when the ethereal fire sputter out without warning. Solona looked across the now empty room a little dazed, until she felt someone lightly take her corset ribbons, out of her unresisting hands.

"Allow me," Zevran smiled.

"Thank you," she muttered, distractedly.

Bizarrely, being helped to dress, was one of the most sensuous activities that Solona had ever encountered. The thought was entirely backward to her, and the fact it happened with two of her friends in the room, only added to the unusualness of it. That was before she took into account that she had already slept with the man helping her, or that the guardian had suddenly re-emerged into the chamber. Absent-mindedly, Solona gave Zevran a chaste kiss of thanks, completely missing his look of shock, as she turned her attention to the spirit.

 


	22. Pillow Talk (Zevran PoV)

The return trip from Haven had been thankfully uneventful. The ashes had surprisingly lived up to their fabled legend, though the Arl was still sleeping. However, his sleep was now from a concoction of herbs and wine, that Solona and Wynne had prepared, to help stave off any lingering sickness. So despite the uncomfortable encounter with Andraste's guardian, and the unspoken questions that seemed to reside in the warden's eyes whenever she looked at him, even Zevran had to concede their fool's errand had been successful. More so now that Solona back in _his_ arms, tracing idle patterns on _his_ chest, both of them naked and sated after their shared passion in _his_ bed no less. Not the blighted ex-Templar's, or the Bann's. Not that Zevran was bothered by the wardens closeness, nor how well she got on with Teagan... not at all. After all, it was his neck that Solona nuzzled at, and his face she planted sporadic kisses over.

"Tell me about your adventures," she asked, suddenly.

"My adventures? I'm hardly an old man just returned from across the ocean am I?" he chuckled. "Should I shake my fist at nearby children, whilst I talk about the good old days?"

"Zev!" Solona chided, and playfully nipped at his jaw. "You certainly talk like you've had adventures."

"Falling down a flight of stairs is an adventure. Falling into someone's bed, also an adventure," Zevran teased.  
  
He pulled her closer, to emphasis his point. Never before had Zevran been one to indulge in affection after the act, but this sort of intimacy came naturally with Solona. Something he would probably worry about, if he didn't currently feel so content. She looked up at him, her eyes almost doe-like, and batted her long eyelashes. A pretty, faux pout on her full lips, that were still swollen from their heated kisses. Since it was no secret that he loved recounting his stories to her, Zevran sighed theatrically hoping to earn a giggle, which he quickly received.

"Humour this poor, sheltered Circle mage,” she cajoled.

"I suppose what you are after are professional antidotes?" he asked.

"You know I can't resist tales of the great Zevran's exploits," Solona grinned.  
  
With that, she settled herself to lean on his chest, her gaze never leaving his. Zevran ran a hand absent-mindedly through her tousled hair, and hummed in contemplation, trying to decide which mission to divulge before a smirk languidly formed on his lips.   
  
"My second mission ever for the Crows was a bit intriguing. I was sent to kill a mage, who had been meddling in politics."

Solona raised an eyebrow. "The Crows are willing to anger the Circle of Magi?"

"Mages, royals, rulers, Grey Wardens… In Antiva, no one is too important to escape the reach of the Crows. They've killed kings and queens, among others, that is simply how it is," he explained. "As it turned out, the mage in question was quite a delightful young woman. Long divine legs, as I recall, though not as ravishing as you Cariño," he added.   
  
Though he had never witnessed an inkling of jealousy from the redhead, Zevran supposed it best to err on the side of caution, especially considering the beautiful woman in his arms could kill him with the snap of her slender fingers.

"Nice save," Solona teased. "So what happened with your leggy mage?"

"I caught her in a carriage, on her way to escape to the provinces. After I killed her guard, she got down on her hands and knees and begged for her life. Rather aptly, I might added."  
  
The admission caused the warden to raise her eyebrow again, and a smirk on her lips, silently saying she could well imagine how the other woman had 'begged'.   
  
"So I joined her in the carriage for the night, and left the next morning," Zevran continued.

Solona tilted her head, her brow furrowing again, and for an awful moment he wondered if he had been too candid. Despite the warden excepting his past sexual history, and his profession, Zevran began to worry that it was folly to be so forthcoming with his history. Part of him admonished himself. What did it matter what she thought? This was nothing serious after all, just two people attracted to each other easing tension. The rest of him pointed out that was a complete lie. Against everything he had been brought up to know, Zevran considered Solona a friend, someone he… _cared_ about. Whether or not their physical relationship had any real meaning to it, he wasn't ready to consider. Though he could admit, at least to himself, that he cared what the warden thought of him. A fact that was utterly terrifying. Without warning, his heart began to beat faster in his chest, unable to read the look she was giving him.

"And she _didn't_ try to kill you?" Solona asked, incredulously.

Whatever he had expected her to be thinking, Zevran hadn't really anticipated that, and he couldn't help but chuckle. It was mirth born from relief, as much as amusement.   
  
"Well, yes. Twice actually," he admitted, grinning ruefully. "And then she decided to use me instead. The woman had actually convinced me speak to the Crows on her behalf."   
  
Solona rolled her eyes in response then bit her lower lip, in an obvious attempt not to laugh.  
  
"What can I say?" Zevran shrugged in good humour. "I was young and foolish at the time. Then, after kissing her goodbye to return to Antiva City, she slipped on the threshold and fell backwards out of the carriage, broke her neck. Shame really, but at least it happened quickly."

"So you didn't _actually_ kill her?"

"Not _actually_ , no. I was a bit unimpressed by the development at first, then I found out she told the driver to take her to Genellen instead. She had planned to lose me in the provinces. I would have looked very foolish to the Crows," he told her. "As it was, my master was very impressed that I done such a fine job of making it look like an accident. The Circle of Magi was unaware of foul play, and everyone was happier all around."

"Except for the mage," Solona countered, smirking. "Do these sort of things happen to you often?"

"Like being spared by a benevolent and beautiful mark, who then helps me escape from the Crows?" Zevran quipped, capturing her lips for a teasing kiss. "Yes, it does seem to happen now and then doesn't it? It was after that, that I learned that one needn't let a pretty face go to your head. Professionalism is key. That's my moral for the day, you see."

"So you _never_ mix business with pleasure?" the warden asked.  
  
Since her voice had taken on a sultry purr, Zevran couldn't resist, and quickly rolled Solona on her back, and rested his weight just above her. She gently ran her fingernails down the expanse of his back.  
  
"Mmm, well there is you," he smirked. "But I must point out that you did have to capture me and tie me up first. Every rule has it's exception."   
  
He was damned to admit just how many exceptions he was willing to make, for the beautiful redhead that lay beneath him. It was troubling to realise that he would break most, if not all, of his own rules to stay by Solona's side.   
  
"Now that I've mentioned tying me up in the context, do we have extra rope about," Zevran joked, trying to hide his discomfort that particular revelation had caused.

 

 


	23. Signed, Sealed, Delivered (Amell PoV)

Her quill made one final scratch against the parchment, before she set it down next to the inkwell. Sighing, Solona sanded the writing, before she rested her chin on an upturned palm, and regarded the short letter. What happened in the Tower's library bothered her a great deal, far more than she let on. Solona doubted that anyone knew she had always cared for Cullen, sentiment that he'd returned, and her feelings hadn't wavered until she met Zevran. The fact her one time love had moved to attack her, tore at Solona heart. She had known Cullen almost as long as she had known Jowan. And though she had let her fellow mage down, Solona was determined not to let the same happen with the Templar. So she had decided to write to him, with the locket he had once given her, sat beside her on the stout oak desk.

**Ser Cullen,  
Foremost, know this letter is sent in regards to the tentative friendship we once shared. You have endured more than one soul ever should, especially one as kind as yours. Please know that, to some extent, I can understand what you went through.  
To be held against your will, tormented and fighting to remain vigilant, to know that the fate of you and your friends is held by those you cannot hope to challenge… That is the life of every Circle mage regarding the Templars and the Fade. I do not say this to anger you, merely for you to understand. You yourself, have witnessed what a bad Templar can and will do. We both spent many an unfortunate night trying to heal the damage of an attack on an innocent apprentice. You with your quiet assurances, and me with my spells.  
On this, you must see reason. Just as Templars are not all wicked and power hungry, delighting on forcing themselves on mages who cannot protect themselves for fear of death or worse. Not all mages are evil and twisted, like Uldred and his followers.  
Please know, had I been there sooner, I would have done everything in my power, to safeguard you against what you have so wrongly suffered. We were friends once, or as close as a mage and a Templar are allowed to be. With that that in mind, know that you are not as alone as you must surely feel. If you let me, I will help however I can.  
Andraste watch over you.  
\- Solona Amell**

Nodding in subdued satisfaction at her wording, certain that nothing untoward could be assumed, should someone other than Cullen read it, Solona rolled the parchment neatly and affixed the seal. Sighing, she pressed the Guerrin insignia that Bann Teagan had kindly provided, into the warm red wax. Extinguishing the candle she had worked by, Solona rose from the desk, and made her way to the castle's main hall. It was their last night in Redcliffe, since the Arl had now fully recovered from his ordeal, and as such, the corridors were a bustle of activity. Eamon's men readied for their march to Denerim, whilst Solona's companions made preparations for their journey to the Brecilian Forest, in search of the Dalish. Walking into the main hall, she found the Bann standing near the large fireplace, that took up nearly the entire western wall of great room. Smiling slightly, Solona handed him the parchment, along with his signet ring. To Solona's surprise, the younger Guerrin caught her hand, and raised it so he could kiss her knuckles.

"I thank you for the loan of your seal, my lord.”

"It was a pleasure, my lady. Rest assured I will have my best scout bare your message to it's mark," he smiled, before retrieving a scroll from a nearby table. "This arrived for you a short while ago. Though as you can see, there is no insignia, so I cannot tell you the source."

Smiling her thanks to the Bann, Solona made to exit the hall with the scroll in hand, when she almost collided with Zevran. The elf was clad in brown linen trousers and an unadorned white tunic ,that enhanced his bronze complexion quite handsomely. He smirked at her, though his lazy smile didn't seem to quite reach his eyes. Taking her arm, Zevran gently escorted Solona back towards her room.   
  
"Making a hasty retreat to read a love letter, no?"

"And here I thought your method of seduction was more tactile," she retorted.

"Perhaps it is from a secret admirer? A woman as lovely as yourself surely has a few."

"What do I need a secret admirer for?" Solona countered.  
  
"Why indeed?"

She pushed open the door that led to her quarters, and leant against the wood. It was an silent invitation for Zevran to enter, even as she absent-mindedly began to read the scroll. Solona barely managed to get the gist of the missive... something about a meeting in Bann Loren's lands, and that the sender was a man named Elric. Though before she could read more, her train of thought was interrupted by the startled gasps,off two passing chambermaids. Solona looked up from the parchment, to find the Antivan barely a hand's width away from her, and she smiled at him warmly, as his hand caressed her right hip. Angry mutterings and disapproving tutting came from the corridor. Glancing over Zevran's shoulder, Solona saw that a fair sized group of servants had gathered. They were mostly human, though some were elven. The former scowled at them in disgust, whilst the latter regarded them with looks of surprise or intrigue. Unable to help herself, Solona rolled her eyes, before closing the distance between herself and Zevran.

"Want to cause a scene?" she whispered.  
  
Zevran's smirk was all the answer Solona needed, and she tugged at the collar of his tunic, pulling him flush against her. The missive crumbled between them, as she pressed her lips to his, unabashed. If the stunned silence was anything to go by, Solona was certain they had made an impression. Smiling against Zevran's lips, she backed him into her room, and kicked the heavy door shut. It closed with a loud bang, and no doubt left their unexpected audience gaping at their audacity... and if the mischievous twinkle in the Antivan's eyes was her reward, Solona was more than pleased with the result.

 

 


	24. Witnessing Demons (Zevran PoV)

Plans often had a way of being interrupted by fate, their plans especially it seemed. And even if Zevran could see the logic behind not travelling straight to the Brecilian Forest, choosing instead to follow the missive that Solona had received, it didn't keep him warm as he shivered. Ankle deep in snow was not how the Antivan liked to spend his days. The haunted look on Alistair's face, and the sorrow the danced in Solona's eyes, were only adding to Zevran's discomfort, and the unease felt by the rest of their motley group. It was unusual, but all of them had travelled to Ostagar, finding the ruins and battlefield now blanketed in crisp snow, that completely hid the legacy of war. Sporadic pockets of darkspawn had remained, but the eight strong group had managed to dispatch them soon enough. They'd found the dead king's sword, a sexy blade in Zevran's opinion, but coveting the weapon had quickly been replaced by disgust, as he stood transfixed with the others, unable to tear his eyes from the ghastly sight before them. The corpse of the dead king, astonishingly well preserved by the prevailing cold, was displayed like some sort of sacrificed messiah. Held aloft on some hastily built, grizzly construct.

"Who would do such a thing?" Leliana whispered, horrified.

"Darkspawn," Morrigan replied, bluntly.   
  
Almost in answer to the witch's statement, the recognisable growl of a genlock reached their ears, followed by the distinct clanking of bones.

"Necromancer," Solona grit out.   
  
Zevran watched in slight surprise, as the mage stepped in front of Alistair who still stood rigid, his harrowed gaze never leaving the king's body. Just as was about to enquire of her plan, Sten spoke out:   
  
"Go. I will stay with the Templar."

"As will I," Wynne added.

Without even turning to look at her companions, Solona gave a barely noticeable nod, before setting off at a run, Cadoc keeping pace beside her. Without thinking, Zevran quickly followed the mage, hardly registering that Leliana and Morrigan were close behind. The quintet raced after the darkspawn necromancer, following the genlock across the deserted ruins and through long abandoned tunnels. Tirelessly, they fought undead corpses and corrupted spiders along the way, until the emerged out onto the desolate battlefield. A bellowing roar echoed across the expanse of snow, and Zevran watched as emotions quickly flickered across Solona's face. Shock, fear and apprehension, before she finally settled on rage, pure unadulterated rage, as her gaze seemed to settle on two blades that were embedded in the Ogre's chest. Without any warning, she directed the mostly powerful firestorm Zevran had ever seen at the beast. Standing aside and guarding the flank was all he, Leliana and Cadoc could do, as the warden unleashed spell after spell. Though Morrigan stepped up beside her fellow mage, and released her own power into the fray. Fire and Ice rained down, until every last enemy had fallen. As the corpses still smouldered, Zevran watched in amazement, as the witch squeezed the warden's shoulder in an extremely rare show of emotion, before Solona staggered towards the Ogre's corpse. The redhead all but collapsed into the snow at it's side, and Zevran's chest tightened, as he noticed how her hands shook, when they reached for one of the blades. Before he could register what he was doing, Zevran had crossed the distance and knelt beside her.

"Cariño?" he whispered, carefully.

"These were Duncan's," Solona replied, shakily.

Quickly understanding, Zevran captured her trembling hands and raised them to his lips, kissing each in turn, for once not caring if the other's saw. His mage needed him, and he couldn't let her down.  
  
"Allow me.”  
  
However, Zevran didn't wait for a reply, before he swiftly freed the blades from where they were embedded in the Ogre's chest. After handing the still blood stained weapons to Solona, he watched silently as she lay the longsword across her lap and unexpectedly cradled the dagger to her chest. A single tear escaped from her tightly shut eyes.  
  
"Rest in peace, my friend," she whispered.

"Amell, the wolves most likely got his body. We should return to the others," Morrigan stated, surprisingly gently.

Though the reasoning was most likely accurate, Zevran could not help but feel that the witch was being callous, however Solona remained stoic. Nodding her assent, the warden slowly stood, still gripping the blades tightly. Realising that she was not going to release the weapons without good reason, Zevran hurriedly unbuckled one of the spare belts he wore over his brigandine, and fastened it loosely around the mage's hips as a makeshift sword belt. He pointedly ignored the knowing look Leliana gave him, as he silently helped Solona secure the blades, and was rewarded with a sad smile. The mage briefly touched her hand to his chest, before turning to follow the two other women back through the tunnels. Having cleared the route already, the return journey progressed quickly, and soon the five of them were back on the bridge, greeted by the sight of Sten gently lowering the king's frozen body to the floor. Wynne was busy asking if Alistair was alright, and Zevran had to bite back the urge to scoff. A blind man could clearly see the ex-Templar was not doing well, the dazed and horrified look on his face was visible enough. Evidently hearing their approaching footsteps, Alistair turned to them. Zevran's stomach gave an unexpected lurch upon seeing the desperate look the warrior gave Solona.   
  
"We need to do something," the man practically pleaded.

"Of course," she soothed. "We'll do right by him, I promise."

Zevran;s chest constricted when the mage lay a gentle hand on the ex-Templar's cheek, before she went to speak quietly to Sten, who nodded and strode away in the direction of the nearby copse of woods. Tearing his eyes away, hoping to hide his scowl, Zevran's gaze landed on the deceased king. Quickly, his eyes flitted back to Alistair, before resting once again on the corpse. Realisation dawned. Brothers, there was no other explanation. Presumably Alistair was a bastard, otherwise he'd be a prince and not an ex-Templar, but still... brothers. Respectfully, Zevran approached the warrior, who stood with his back to him, and lay a hand on the man's shoulder.   
  
"You're brother, no?" he asked, quietly.

"How did you…" Alistair began, before his shoulders sagged. "Yes. Half-brother, anyway."

Nodding solemnly, Zevran regarded the other man. "You have my condolences, my friend. If you have need, I am at your disposal."   
  
For once, he was completely serious with his intent.

 


	25. Mistaken Affection (Amell PoV)

Taking a page from Morrigan's book, Solona sat a distance away from the camp fire and the others. It had been a mere six hours since they had lit the funeral pyre for King Cailan, three hours since they had made camp, and barely a single hour had passed since she had given Alistair Duncan's sword. A sad smile pulled at her lips, and her ribs twinged in phantom pain, from the memory of the crushing hug the ex-Templar had given her. Red steel armour and physical affection certainly did not mix. With a sigh, Solona regarded the dagger that sat in her lap, before her gaze lifted to the babbling brook she sat beside, with just a single werelight for company. Even though Solona had only known Duncan for a short time, the rogue had taken up residence in her heart, she sorely missed his quick wit and hearty laugh. She doubted the foolish wish that she'd have gotten more time to know him, would ever fade. He was a good man, gone much too soon. A warm hand unexpectedly squeezed her shoulder, and turning her head, Solona found herself looking up at Alistair's smiling face. Without preamble, he sat next to her on the improvised log seat, their shoulders touching.  
  
"Here, look at this," he said. "Do you know what this is?"

Solona's mouth quirked into a smirk, as the ex-Templar gently lay a pressed rose onto her lap, next to Duncan's dagger. Gently, she caressed the dried red petals, and was surprised they had retained most of their velvety texture, instead of becoming brittle.   
  
"Is this a trick question?" she asked, sarcastically.

"Yes, absolutely. I'm trying to trick you. Is it working?" he smiled.

She bit her lower lip, in an attempt to hold back a chuckle. "I can just imagine how frightened the darkspawn will be with your new weapon."

Alistair outright laughed. "Exactly," he agreed, gesticulating wildly. "Watch as I thrash our enemies with the mighty power of floral arrangements! Feel my thorns, darkspawn! I will over power you with my rosy scent."

Tears streamed down Solona's face as she joined in his laughter, and it wasn't until her head fell against his shoulder, that she realised Alistair wasn't in his armour, opting for brown woollen trews and a white cotton shirt instead. If she wasn't struggling so much to breath, Solona might have considered him rather dashing. Instead she wheezed against his shoulder. His laughter jostled her head, and he soon slipped his arm around her shoulders, which was much more comfortable.

"Or, you know, it could just be a rose," he shrugged. "I know that's pretty dull in comparison."

"It's beautiful," Solona argued, smiling. "Though sentiment can be a pretty potent weapon."

"Is it that easy to see right through me?" Alistair asked, leaning his cheek atop her head. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised, you are the smartest person I know. I picked it back in Lothering. I remember thinking: 'How could something so beautiful, exist in a place with so much despair and ugliness?' I probably should have left it alone, but I couldn't. The darkspawn would come and their taint would just destroy it. So I've had it ever since."

Nestling herself against his side, Solona regarded the rose again, idly wondering if Leliana had helped him preserve the flower, as it was in such beautiful condition still. She couldn't help but smile... who would have thought an ex-Templar would be such a romantic.

"That's an adorable sentiment."

"I thought that I might… give it to you," he told her quietly, tightening his arm around her. "In a lot of ways, I think the same thing when I look at you."

Her first instinct was to make a joke _. 'Feeling a little_ _ **thorny**_ _are we?'_ was the first thing that came to mind, causing Solona to roll her eyes at herself... she was spending too much time with Zevran.

"Thank you Alistair, that's a lovely thought," she smiled.

There was a brush of lips against the top of her head. "I'm glad you like it. I was just thinking… here I am doing all this complaining, and you haven't exactly been having a good time of it yourself. You've had none of the good experiences of being a Grey Warden since your Joining, not a word of thanks or congratulations. It's all been death, fighting and tragedy."

"Not all tragedy," Solona interrupted, squeezing his hand. "I got you and the others out of all this. I couldn't ask for better friends."

Alistair gave a hearty chuckle. "You are too kind. I know the rose isn't much, nothing compared to you finding my mother's locket or Duncan's sword, but… I just wanted to let you know how appreciated you are. To tell you what a rare and wonderful thing you are to find amidst all this… darkness. I couldn't do this without you."

"Of course you could, just not as stylishly," she quipped, fighting back unexpected tears. "So, are we married now?"

"You won't land me that easily, woman," Alistair laughed. "I know I'm quite the prize after all. No need to start crying on me or anything."

How he always knew when she emotional, Solona couldn't say, but she smiled up at him ruefully, as he tilted her head to face him, and wiped the few escaped tears away.   
  
"Now, if we could move on from this awkward stage and get right to the steamy bits, I'd appreciate it," he grinned.

Laughing outright, Solona lightly punched his chest. "All right hot stuff, sounds good. Off with this," she goaded.

She tugged on the collar of his shirt, and raised an eyebrow expectantly. Solona knew this was all just banter, they were friends, not to mention that she'd noticed the way Alistair looked at Leliana. Not to mention that she was well and truly enamoured with Zevran. The ex-Templar held up his hands in defeat, before moving to stand and offering Solona his hand  
  
"Bluff called," he admitted. "Damn. You saw right through me."

"You're so cute when you're bashful,” she grinned. "But at least you're not blushing this time."

"Thank the Maker," he agreed.

They walked in a companionable silence, back towards the camp and it's inviting fire. Glancing around, Solona was disappoint that Zevran was nowhere to be seen.

"He said he was going to wash up. I suspect he will be back shortly," Leliana stated, giving her a knowing look.

"Thanks, Leli."

With that, she retired to her tent pointedly ignoring the disapproving glance Wynne gave her. She didn't care who knew about her and Zevran, and didn't care what they thought. However, Solona decided she would deal with the older mage, and anything else fate decided to throw at her, after a good long sleep. So barely stifling a yawn, she began to settle down for the night. However, she barely had time to set down the rose and dagger beside her pack, before there was a slight rustle of canvas, followed by the smell of sandalwood and leather filling the enclosed space. Solona wasted no time pulling the elf into a welcoming kiss.

"What must the others think?" he chuckled, though it sounded a little forced.

"Is everything okay?" she asked.

As Solona pulled away from him slightly, her brow furrowing when he refused to meet her eyes. Gently, she tugged Zevran to sit next to her, even as her stomach began to twist with worry. Several heartbeats passed, as her companion simply gazed at the scattering of werelights, before his gaze shifted to the rose

"You and Alistair are close, are you not?" he enquired. "I am curious to the… nature of your relationship."

For a moment, Solona wondered if she had heard him right. He couldn't be jealous, could he? Though looking at his face, taking in the tightness of his jaw and the heated look he was giving the poor rose, said he very well could be. It wasn't something Solona would have ever expected, and she shook her head in disbelief. For a brief moment, she wondered how warped his view of affection and companionship really was.

"It isn't what you think," she told him, gently.

"Isn't it?" he replied harshly, before letting out a suspiciously sad sounding sigh. "I've watched you and he together. I know a complication when it rears it's head and threatens to bite. You and I have had our fun, but if this thing between you and Alistair is leading somewhere…"

"Zev," Solona interrupted.

She cupped his face in her hands, though he stubbornly refused to look at her.

"My love," she added.

Zevran's eyes snapped to hers. He looked surprised at the term of endearment, and she smiled at him encouragingly.

"It is not what you think," she repeated. "He's my friend, a very dear one, but my friend none the less."

"Events say otherwise," he argued, gesturing towards the rose. "I will happily step aside. Complication avoided. Everyone's the happier, yes?"

A weary sigh escaped Solona's lips, as her hands dropped back to her lap _._ Despite her better judgement, she cared about the assassin... much more than a just friend, probably much more than she should. There was a sadness to Zevran's amber eyes, that Solona had never seen before, and it constricted her chest. She couldn't remember ever seeing him this way, so resigned and vulnerable.

"Is that what you want?" she asked, cautiously.

"What I want?" Zevran sounded genuinely confused. "If only it was so simple. I make no claims upon you. Nor would I dream of such. You are free to pursue your fancies as you desire. I would have it no other way."  
  
Her heart ached for him. "I don't want you to step aside."  
  
Zevran gave a small chuckle. "And I have no burning need to do so, but…"  
  
Fighting the urge to groan in frustration, Solona kissed him, fiercely. All but straddling his lap in the process.

"Listen to me, you infuriating elf," she snapped. "There is _nothing_ between me and Alistair. Yes we are close, yes I adore him, but as a friend. Nothing more. He is more a brother to me than anything else. It's _you_ I want, but if that's not enough to convince you, maybe watch the way he looks at Leliana tomorrow when we break camp."

By the end, her chest was heaving from the effort to keep her voice low, so the others would not over hear. She might not care what they thought, but the whole camp didn't need to hear them having a domestic. For a moment, Zevran merely regarded her before he bowed his head, almost sheepishly.

"I am many things, a murderer, a thief, a lover… but I am no cheat. I just… if whatever is between us can't be honest…"  
  
"It _is_ honest," Solona interjected, a little hurt Zevran thought she was using him. "There is nothing between me and Alistair, or anyone else for that matter. I want you, no question."  
  
"I am glad to hear it," he replied, looking genuinely relieved. "Now, then. Shall we move on to more pleasant topics?"

Solona could see his familiar mask slipping back into place, though for once, she would let him hide.  
  
"How about poetry?" she quipped, cheekily.

 


	26. About a Boy (Zevran PoV)

They had spent the past seven days walking from the ruins of Ostagar, towards the Brecilian Forest, and the chilled wind had harried their progress every step of the way. However, it was a relief to see winter had not yet encroached so far into Thedas, as the last vestibules of autumn clung resolutely to the tightly packed trees. The wan sun was setting, casting it's pallid light around the smaller than usual camp site, since the thicket of trees granted them little room to move. As such, the group's tents were tightly packed together, and Zevran knew there was little chance he would be able to sneak into the warden's tent tonight. Part of him scoffed at the thought, Solona had made it more than clear that she wasn't embarrassed if people knew about them. She had certainly made that perfectly clear during their last night in Redcliffe. Also, the pair had cleared the air regarding her and Alistair, though Zevran still found his fists clenching every time the ex-Templar touched the mage. Which left him utterly confused. He couldn't understand why seeing the pair together agitated him, why he was so bothered about not spending the night with her. Or why his heart had beat so uncontrollably fast, when she had told him that she wanted _him_ , no one else.

Unable to contain the ragged sigh that escaped him, as he stared into the embers of the camp fire, Zevran earned himself another caustic look from Wynne, something he'd been getting a lot since Redcliffe. He was so weary, he couldn't even muster the effort to throw a witty remark at the older mage, and instead ran a hand down his face as he tried to collect his thoughts. Absent-mindedly, he heard footsteps approaching, but it wasn't until someone appeared in his peripheral, that Zevran turn to acknowledge the person. A smirk tugged at his lips, as he drank in the sight of the warden clad in only an oversized, white shirt. _His_ shirt to be more precise, which barely reached the middle of her porcelain thighs. He watched as she lay out her robes near the fire, evidently setting them out to dry after washing. Zevran could practically feel Wynne's disapproving stare, as his smirk turned into a wide grin when Solona turned to face him. His eyes perusing her body, unabashed.

"My, my... My dear Grey Warden. You are certainly a delectable sight," he flirted.

Returning his smile, Solona rolled her eyes before joining him on the pelt he sat upon... the same pelt she had given him, during his first night at camp. To Zevran's amusement, the warden leant her back against his side, stretching her lean legs out in front of her. Chuckling, he shifted his position until they were sitting back to back, and her minuscule weight against him was oddly comforting.

"What's your opinion on the Dalish?" Solona asked, sounding tired.

Her question caught Zevran slightly off guard. He hadn't really given the Dalish any thought, well… not in many years at least, and he took a moment to think before answering.

"I know little enough of the Dalish, other than my mother was one… or so I am told."

Despite his best effort, Zevran couldn't keep the melancholy out of his voice. Though surprisingly, he didn't feel any real need to hide it from the warden.

"She had fallen in love with an elven woodcutter, and accompanied him back to the city, leaving her clan behind for good. And then, of course, the woodcutter died of some filthy disease and my mother was forced into prostitution to pay off his debts. Oldest tale in the book."

Silence followed, and apprehension began to gnaw at him. He always found himself opening up to Solona, admitting things he had never told another soul, and it always left him feeling exposed and vulnerable. It was dangerous.

"She must have been very beautiful, to have a son as stunning as you," Solona replied, quietly. "Was the woodcutter your father?"

Zevran smiled at her compliment. "How should I know? My mother was a whore, as you recall. None of the other elven boys in the whorehouse knew their fathers, I was not so unusual. I didn't know my mother either of course, she died giving birth to me. My first victim as it were…"

He lapsed into silence then, lost to the old guilt and bitter thoughts. Unexpectedly, Solona suddenly moved, which sent him suddenly tumbling backwards. Bracing himself for the hard smack of solid earth to the back of his head, Zevran was surprised to find himself blinking up at the warden, his head cradled on her lap. A witty remark was on the tip of his tongue, until he caught the look on her beautiful face.

"Don't even think that!" Solona scolded in a harsh whisper.

Her tone was tempered with a gentle caress to his cheek. Zevran quickly shut his eyes, lest she notice his tumbling emotions. He took a subtle deep breath, before allowing himself to relax into her. He figured that he'd gone so far, so he may as well tell Solona the rest.

"We were all raised communally," he explained. "It was a happy enough existence, ignoring the occasional beating. Until eventually I was sold to the Crows. I brought a good price, so I hear."

His eyes remained shut, even when he felt her hand still on cheek. After a heartbeat, Solona began stroking his hair, and Zevran was unable to withhold the hum of appreciation. He changed glancing up at his mage, and the look she was giving him was so breathtakingly honest and so full of care, that his heart stuttered and he had to look away again.

"I'm so sorry, love," she whispered.

"Ah, compassion and beauty both in the same woman. It is a delight, truly,” she smiled. “Though, what you say is unnecessary, even if it is appreciated."

"Oh Zev," she sighed, sadly.

"It could have been worse," he assured. "I shall not tell you about the other whorehouse boys, those who do not fetch a decent price with the Crows."

Zevran paused, mulling over his next words. In all the time he had known the warden, he could think of only a handful of times Solona had ever opened up. It seemed she spent her entire time consoling or bolstering others. Not for the first time, he wondered why this amazing woman gave him the time of day... at least away from bedroom activities.

"Surely your life has not been so idyllic either? People like you and I are not the product of happy lives of contentment after all."

For some inexplicable reason, Zevran found himself holding his breath, as he waited for her reply. He wasn't sure why, but a small part of his brain believed that if she answered, it would mean she truly trusted him... which was something more important than he'd like to admit. Before long, Solona gave a short, sad huff of laughter. Even as her nimble fingers unbound his hair, then continued raking through it soothingly. Without thinking, Zevran captured her left hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the pad of each of her fingers.

"You could say that again,” she smiled, wryly. “One day, when our surroundings don't have so many ears, I will tell you more about it…"

He returned her smile. "My original point, was that my mother's Dalish nature was always a point of fascination for me. Through all the years of my Crow training, the one thing of my mother's that I possessed was a pair of gloves. They were of Dalish make, I knew that much, and beautiful. I had to keep them hidden, of course, as we were not allowed such things. Eventually, they were discovered and I never saw them again."

Zevran decided to leave out the punishment that he'd received, a beating had rendered him unconscious, and the scars from the lashes still marred his back. Which was why he tried his best to let no lover see his back naked, or even touch it. If any ever moved to explore lower than his neck, he would pin their hands to whatever surface they found themselves on... it was a point of pride, he knew how ugly the scars were. Those that had forced him to expose them, had loved nothing more than to drive that point home.

"Has there been no joy in your life at all?" Solona asked, gently.

Her voice brought Zevran out of his macabre thoughts, and he realised the mage sounded like she was holding back a sob. Looking up at her face, his heart clenched to see the tell-tale shimmer of tears in her verdant eyes. He couldn't understand why she cared so much, and was honestly confused with the amount of compassion the warden afforded him. He knew he didn't deserve it, and the thought left him feeling exposed.

"Oh, there have been plenty," Zevran chuckled, to mask his discomfort. "To tell the truth, it is because I expected nothing more. Still, eventually I thought it would be better for me if I ran off to join the famous Dalish, when one of their clans drew near Antiva City. Naturally, the reality did not live up at all to the fantasies I had constructed as a boy, staring at those gloves."

Once again, Zevran thought it prudent not to mention the outcome of his return to the Crows. Of how they had found him, dragged him back, beat him and inflicted much worse physical punishments on him. What would his fearless Grey Warden, think if she found out that he still had nightmares about his time spent in the guild's dungeons? Or that he was ever so _slightly_ scared of enclosed, dark spaces, even now?

 


	27. A Dalish Welcome (Amell PoV)

They had risen with the sun, though it's weak early winter rays, barely permeated so far into the forest, despite the majority of the trees having already shed their withered leaves. Solona stamped her feet to keep warm, her woollen cloak pulled tight around herself, whilst Cadoc whined and panted at her side, his hot breathe morphing into little clouds in the cold air. Eventually the other's emerged from their tents, and after a meagre breakfast of jerked meat and hastily thrown together flatbread, they continued their seemingly endless trudge through the Brecilian Forest. Some weary hours later, their progress was halted by the emergence of three elves, Dalish hunters by the look of them. The party leader; a lithe framed, blonde haired female archer, addressed the group.

"Stop right there outsiders. The Dalish are camped in this spot. I suggest you go elsewhere, and quickly."

Solona ignored the thinly veiled threat, and tried to remembered what her friend Surana had taught her about the Dalish, when they had been girls back at the tower. Ruefully, she hoped her her elven friend hadn't been lying, especially since she had enjoyed teasing her so much.

"Atisha. We mean you know harm. We," Solona gesticulated between herself and Alistair. "Are Grey Wardens, and seek the wisdom of your Keeper."

There was a snort of disbelief from one of the hunters.

"I find that hard to believe," the leader stated. "What business could we Dalish have with a group like yours?"

Solona didn't miss the scowl that was directed towards Zevran, and she fought the irrational urge to step protectively in front of him. Holding back a sigh, she recalled the very meagre advice Surana had given, the last time she had seen the elf; just before she had left to lead Irving to Redcliffe.

"Abelas. Emma isada na Hahren," Solona quoted, hoping she wasn't butchering the pronunciation. "Our business must be discussed with your Keeper, and them alone."

To the archer's credit, she only looked mildly surprised a human was talking Elvish. "Seeing as you are obviously no simple trespasser, I will leave it to the Keeper to decide the importance of your business,” she stated. “In the camp, I suggest you keep your hands to yourself, and remember that our arrows are still trained on you. Follow me."

"Ma nuvenin," Solona smiled.

She inclined her head in a small nod of respect, and as they followed the three Dalish, both Zevran and Alistair approached Solona, one on either side of her.

"You didn't say you could speak Elvish," the ex-Templar whispered, reproachfully.

The assassin merely chuckled: "Cariño, you are full of surprises."

"Alistair, you didn't ask. Zev, if you know any more phrases that would be useful here, I'd greatly appreciate them," she whispered.

"Alas, mi querida. My mother may have been Dalish, but you know more of them than I do it seems," Zevran smiled.

 _"How_ exactly do you know Elvish?" Alistair pressed.

"Along with Jowan and Petra, one of my closet friends in the tower was an elf called Neria Surana,” Solona explained. “No one knew of her life before she came to the Circle, not even she, yet Neria remember snippets of Elvish, and would research the language tirelessly. Since I was the only one that took an interest in her 'hobby', for lack of a better phrase, she taught me a little. I saw her just after we cleared the tower, she told me some phrase she thought I might need."

"A useful friend to have," the blonde archer interrupted.

"No. She is simply a wonderful friend," Solona corrected, smiling. "Elvish is a beautiful language, just damn hard for a 'Shem' like me learn. It's a wonder she didn't blast me with a fireball, for the amount of times I pronounced something wrong."

There was an unexpected huff of laughter, from another of the hunters. "You didn't do too badly... for a Shem.”

The walk to the Dalish camp was relatively short, and they seemed to follow an old deer or halla track. Throughout the journey, Solona felt the tell-tale tingle, that signalled eyes were watching them, and she supposed other hunters were hidden amongst the trees. They only stopped when a pretty, honey-blonde elf crossed their path. The woman was dressed in similar robes to Solona, though hers were tinted green and yellow, instead of grey and purple. The staff she carried brought a smile to Solona's face, it was good to see another mage, besides Morrigan and Wynne.

"Andaran atish'an. Greetings, I am Lanaya, the Keeper's First, and I welcome you to this camp, our home," the elven mage stated.

"Ma serannas," Solona replied.

Her thanks was rewarded by a surprised, yet pleased smile from the First.

"The Keeper is unable to meet with you at present, several injuries require his expertise, and duties to the clan take president. There is room, close to the halla pen, where you could sent up your tents, as the Keeper promises he will meet with you at first light," Lanaya explained.

"I am a healer, if you are need of assistance. As is my companion," Solona explained, gesturing to Wynne.

"You are?" the First asked.

Though pleasant, the elven mage eyed her bow suspiciously. Smiling, Solona inhaled deeply, before a silver-white aura surrounded her and the group, encompassing the Dalish hunters and Lanaya as well. Perhaps casting Mass Rejuvenation wasn't the most subtle method to showcase her talents, but it certainly got the point across. Taking her cue, Wynne raised her hand above her chest and drew a complicated shape in the air. The ground around them lit with a pale blue glow, as the Glyph of Warding was cast. The three hunters looked mildly bewildered, yet Lanaya beamed.

"Enasal! I'm sure Zathrian will welcome the help, I know I do."

With that, the woman grabbed Solona's hand, and pulled her further into the camp, Wynne followed quickly behind. As trio began to wind their way through the clustered aravels, Solona was sure she could hear Zevran's voice laughing:

"The warden never fails to make friends, no?"

* * *

 

**Author's Note:** **  
The Elvish language/words I use are taken from the DAwiki:  
Abelas. Emma isala na Hahren translates to (I'm) Sorry. I am in need of you Elder.  
Ma nuvenin (Mah noo-VEY-nihn) means as you wish  
Andaran atish'an (ahn-DAHR-ahn ah-TEESH-ahn) is a formal elven greeting  
Ma serannas (Ma SEHR-ahn-ahs) means My thanks  
Enasal (EHN-ah-sahl) means joyful relief**

 

 


	28. Old Scars (Zevran Pov)

With a sigh, Zevran threw himself down on his bedroll. His clothes already discarded haphazardly near the entrance of his tent. He wasn't entirely sure what was wrong, but being amongst the Dalish was… uncomfortable. It brought back the childish imaginings he'd had of his mother, it reminded him of the Dalish back near Antiva City, and it conjured the memories he'd tried to repress, from the time the Crows had dragged him back from the Dalish clan he'd run to. Sighing, Zevran propped his forehead against folded arms, and his gaze almost burned holes into the flimsy fabric of his thin pillow, as he tried to block out the memories. He gave an involuntary shudder, his gut churning as he remembered the sting of the whip lashing his skin. Screwing his eyes shut, he tried to hold back his roiling emotions, though a tear escaped all the same, much to his disdain. In his mind's eye, Zevran could well picture the dungeon he'd spent a month in. He could easily recall the rancid smell of fear and death, could see the way the dim light bounced off the dagger's blade, could feel the coil of fear and dread as the master walked around his bound form, and began to drag the biting steel down his back. Zevran slammed his palm into the ground beside his bedroll. It sickened him, that even after all these years, the memories still haunted him. He knew he still bared the scars on his back, why did he have to bare them in his head as well? He didn't even have Solona's comforting presences, for she had yet to return from helping the clan, despite Wynne returning hours ago. Zevran frowned at his errant thought, and struggled to recall when he had come to rely on the warden's company to ease the troubles of his mind. She didn't even need to say anything, just be there. It was a disconcerting thought. Worrying though it was, at least it was Solona that occupied his mind, rather than memories of the Crows, as he drifted off into fitful sleep…

Jolting awake, Zevran's whole body tensed. Someone was in the tent with him, and they were close by. Training took over as his breathing remained steady, hopefully fooling the intruder that he was still asleep. Whilst his left hand slowly slid towards the small puñal dagger, that was hidden beneath his pillow.

"Zev, are you awake?" a gentle voice whispered. "I heard a… noise, and wanted to see if you were okay.”

He began to marginally relax, even as a sardonic smile twitched his lips. 'Noise' was a very kind way for the warden to tell him that he'd been whimpering in his sleep, for that's what he knew she meant. Zevran easily recalled the nightmare, or more the memory, he'd been having. It was a small wonder that he hadn't been screaming and awoken the entire camp. He was about to roll over and tug her down to join him. Until he felt the dreadful feeling of Solona's soft, warm palm gently touch his back, directly between his shoulder blades. Zevran's blood froze. He'd been so careful to not let the warden see his back during their travels, even managing to stop her touching him during their intimate moments… mostly by either holding her hands, or simply pinning her wrists above her head. There was only his one slip up in Redcliffe, when Solona had seemed too groggy to notice, but Zevran knew he wouldn't be so lucky this time. It was a small mercy, as far as Zevran was concerned, that is was so dark inside his tent, and that the warden had thankfully not conjured a werelight. That at least meant Solona wasn't able to see the myriad of silvery scars, that littered his back from his countless whippings. However, she would easily be able to feel the ugly, raised lines from poison tinged daggers. Those had been inflicted with the sole purpose to remind him that he was worth nothing, _was_ nothing. Nothing more than damaged goods, and now his warden would know. Solona would realise he was nothing more than an elven whoreson, and be repulsed that she'd deigned to let him be her lover for as long as she had. Zevran knew he'd lose her friendship as well, because why the Maker would she want to be associated with such a broken, worthless being such as himself.

Swallowing past the lump that was forming in his throat was becoming difficult, especially when he heard Solona give a faint, shocked gasp. Zevran wanted to lash out, to snap at her, demand if she was gaining some perverse enjoyment as her fingers lightly ghosted along the length of a particularly nasty scar. He was about to do just that, before he felt her lean forward, and place a gentle kiss between his shoulder blades, followed by another. It took Zevran a heartbeat to realise what she was doing, and it both sickened and amazed him. Solona was kissing down the length of the scar, almost as if it was something to be honoured or adored. Instinctively he tensed when her fingertips found another raised line, one that snaked it's way from his tailbone towards his ribs on the right hand side. That one was given in punishment for turning down a master's advances, when he'd barely turned sixteen. It wasn't the only punishment he'd received that day, but the only one the left a physical scar. As before, the warden's soft lips followed her finger's path, and as much as Zevran wanted to push her away from him, to stop her affecting him so much and confusing him, he found he couldn't. Though it scared him to admit it, he found her ministrations… soothing, comforting even. For the life of him, he didn't know why.

"I always knew you were a strong man, Zevran Arainai," Solona whispered, her warm breath caressing his cool skin. "I just never realised just how resilient you are. You're a marvel."

To Zevran's surprise, she actually sounded impressed... though perhaps proud was a better description if he thought about it, and his brow furrowed in confusion. This wasn't how it should be. The scars were a reminder, a testament to his worthlessness, he'd been told time and again that they would let worthwhile people, like Solona, know how broken he was. Something to just use then discard. Zevran opened his mouth to demand her to explain what she meant, but to his disgust, only a strangled sob emerged as the warden found another scar, one that curved the length of the fifth rib on his left side. He'd earn that when he'd stopped a senior Crow forcing himself on a young human girl, who was being held captive as leverage against her magistrate father. Yet somehow, Solona managed to understand he was wanting an explanation.

"These aren't from fights," she state, quietly. "I cannot imagine…"

Her soft voice wavered, and Zevran snapped back to reality. The warden wasn't doing this because she cared, she merely felt sorry for him. He quickly sat up, pushing Solona away from him in the process.

"I do not want your pity," he spat.

"Is that what you think?!" she demanded in a hiss.

Solona sounded hurt, surprised and offended. The air around them crackled with her barely concealed power, and the tent was briefly illuminated by the glow of summoned fire. In that moment, Zevran caught a glimpse of her face, and his anger was quickly extinguished. Even though the warden was regarding him with tear filled eyes, the only look he could see was one of affection and respect. His gaze dropped to the floor, ashamed by his accusation, yet words once again seemed to fail him.

"I know you do not want my pity, and what's more, you don't need it," Solona stated, firmly. "Why would someone as tenacious, capable and courageous as you, need pity? I won't lie, it _hurts_ to know someone harmed you, even if I didn't know you at the time. But I promise you, I will turn them into chargrilled Crows if they ever cross our path."

Zevran chuckled, a little nervously, trying to gather his customary bravado as a shield. "Ah Cariño, the past is the past, no?"

"No," Solona replied. "It's obvious they bother you, and one day I hope you'll tell me why. Until then, just know that I certainly don't think less of you for them. What I feel is far from pity, Zev. Though, in case you're struggling to understand…"

Without warning, Solona's lips crashed into his. It wasn't like one of their usual kisses, one that would start off gentle and build into heated passion. This one was fiercely intense from the start, and forced Zevran onto his back where he pulled the red haired mage into his arms, not breaking their kiss, though she didn't linger long. Abruptly, the warden stood up, and just as he was about to question her, she began to hastily disrobe. As quickly as she had departed, Solona was back in his arms, pressing her lithe body against his. He couldn't help but groan in pleasure as her agile tongue licked up the tapered curve of his left ear, fully igniting his arousal. Since she was straddle across his thighs, Zevran gave her a teasing caress and was pleasantly surprised to find she was not only willing, but more than ready. His confident smirk was back in place as the tip of him nudge the velvet warmth of her. However, he halted his movement, search for her eyes in the darkness, looking for her consent. The minx surprised him though, by deftly sliding down his length, leaving them both moaning in unabashed enjoyment from the sensation. An idle thought crossed Zevran's mind at that moment, vaguely realising that Wynne's tent was pitched close to his. However, conscious thought was soon eradicated as Solona rocked her hips, and forced him to pant his appreciation. They quickly lost themselves to the ancient rhythm.

 


	29. Tell it Like it is (Amell PoV)

Sleep hadn't come easy for Solona, nor had it lulled her for very long either. Though for once, she didn't mind, having rested well enough, her limbs entwined with Zevran's as he slept peacefully. She'd spent the last half hour propped up on an elbow, stroking his soft locks whilst admiring his handsome face, a single werelight casting a dim light about the tent. In that time, as the dawn chorus began to stir, Solona had come to the realisation she had started to fall for her Antivan assassin... not that she had any intention of telling him. She truly suspecting that Zevran would run a mile out of fear if she did, and that didn't even take into account what had happened the night before, an event she was still trying to wrap her head around. However, Solona was pulled from her thoughts, as Zevran's suddenly asked:

"See something you like?"

"More than like," Solona whispered, teasingly.

She spoke softly against his sensitive ear, before giving the lobe a playful nip. And though Solona knew that time was of the essence, especially if she were to meet Zathrian on time, she kissed a trail down Zevran's neck. Her ministrations moved down his toned chest and defined abdomen. Feeling devilish, she gave a teasing lick to a very alert part of him, before quickly moving out of Zevran's reach to dress quickly.

"You are too cruel, my dear Grey Warden," he chastised, good-natured.

"And you are too tempting,” she retorted, giving him a chaste kiss. “Hopefully, I'll be back for breakfast."

It was only after she noticed his smirk, that Solona realised how that sounded, especially to someone with a dirty mind like Zevran. Though instead of bothering to correct herself, she gave him a cheeky wink, before slipping out of his tent, for once opting to leave her bow behind. Without even having to whistle, Cadoc was at her side, and the two set off at a run. Though it turned out she needn't have bothered, for she arrived at the camp's fire pit long before anyone else had even stirred. A chilled mist swirled around the Dalish camp, and Solona pulled her cloak around her trying to conserve heat. Kneeling next to the fire, she coaxed the dying embers back into life with a small spell, before settling into Cadoc's side for warmth. Judging the passage of time by the growing light, Solona waited a long thirty minutes before the Keeper finally appeared, dressed in nothing but his long grey robes. Obviously he had intend on the delay, if the look on his face was any indication. It had been evident yesterday, whilst she and Wynne had helped to heal the injured Dalish, that Zathrian was far from thrilled to have 'Shems' helping him. It was only for Lanaya's sake that Solona had held her tongue then. Now, with a look that could almost be a smirk on his face, she could have happily punched him. It was only her respect for the Keeper's First, and oddly enough her respect for Zevran, that stopped her doing so.

"Now, as there was no time yesterday, allow me to introduce myself properly. I am Zathrian, the Keeper of this clan. It's guide and preserver of our ancient law. And you are…?" the elf stated, once he had reached the camp fire.

Dusting herself off as she rose, she plastered on the most convincing smile she could muster. "My name is Solona, Circle Mage and Grey Warden. It is a pleasure to _properly_ meet you."

"Manners… from a Shemlen?" Zathrian replied, sounding genuinely puzzled. "Interesting. What might be your mission here? With such an… eclectic group of travelling companions."

Solona's eyes followed the Keeper's line of sight, falling fully on Zevran, as he began to walk towards them.

"I imagine you are here regarding the treaties we signed, centuries ago,” Zathrian continued. “Unfortunately, we may not be able to live up to the promise we made. You have seen for yourself how my clan currently fairs, we will not be able to uphold our obligations. I am truly sorry.”

"Indeed. Ir abelas, Hahren," Solona said respectfully, only feeling slightly smug at the shocked expression that flitted across Zathrian's face. "Though, is there no way to help your clan? Yesterday, there was some mention of Werewolves..."

"Ah, Cariño. You are about to volunteer our services for another impossible task, no?" Zevran 'greeted', as he reached the camp fire.

Unexpectedly, he slipped an arm loosely around her shoulders. It was a little out of character, but Solona instinctively shifted her weight so she was leaning slightly into him. It was hardly a flamboyant gesture, or even remotely intimate, just one that was friendly and comfortable. However, the Keeper looked positively scandalised, as did the other Dalish that were now milling about the camp. Choosing to ignore the glares, Solona smiled at her companion.

"Was there any doubt?" she replied, before turning her attention back to Zathrian. "We will gladly help were we can, though if we are to track down your Werewolves, we will need at least a rough map and perhaps some supplies."

"Of course. I will have Mithra ready them shortly, and I am sure Varathorn will be willing to barter with you," the Keeper replied.

"Ma Serannas," Solona replied, nodding respectfully to the elder elf, then caught Zevran's eye. "Go and prepare. And get Morrigan and Leliana to do so as well, we can set out as soon as we have the maps."

Kissing the back of Solona's hand, Zevran grinned. "Scouting with three beautiful ladies, you spoil me, mi querida."

Idly, she admired his physique, as he jogged back to their part of the camp, only to have Zathrian rudely disturb Solona's thoughts. And warning bells began to immediately sound in the back of her mind.

"I find your… relationship... surprising," the Keeper stated, coolly. "Though I must wonder it's true nature."

"You mean Zevran and myself?" she asked, receiving a terse nod in response. Solona grit her teeth. "I would say first and foremost, he is a dear and trusted friend, though that would be a small lie," she explained, eyes narrowing. "Firstly, Zevran was an assassin that was hired by Loghain to kill myself and my fellow warden. Then, I spared his life and _he_ asked to join our mission, in return for protection from his former guild, obviously I accepted." She paused, letting that sink in. "Soon we became friends and now we are lovers, not that _that_ is any of your concern or business."

When the Keeper went to speak, Solona held up her hand.

"Being a mage, I am certainly used to other people's disdain, so I do not find it surprising to find it here amongst your clan. I well know what you were trying to imply, but you are greatly mistaken _Hahren_. I do not think Zevran lesser than myself, nor am I using him to simply satisfy my own needs. I respect, trust and care for him, without reservation, and I couldn't give a damn about what anyone else thinks."

With that, Solona turned on her heel, and set off to find Varathorn. It didn't take long to notice Leliana leaning on a nearby tree, and though a little embarrassed by her dramatic exit, she still met the bard's eye.

"You repeat any of that to Zev, and I'll give your shoes to Cadoc to use as chew toys," she threatened, smiling.

"Perish the thought," Leliana chuckled, linking her arm through Solona's as they went.

* * *

 **  
Author's Note: ** **  
** **Ir abelas, Hahren translates to (I'm) very sorry, Elder. See DAwiki, Elven Language.** **  
** **Ma Serannas (SEHR-ah-nahs) means I'm grateful.**

 

 


	30. A Dressing Down (Zevran PoV)

Slipping back into his tent, Zevran grabbed one of his many vials of poison along with Solona's quiver and bow, that were still lying where she had discarded them last night. Idly, he wondered what must the others think... as he was sure that even the likes of Alistair must have noticed that his friendship with the warden was not strictly platonic anymore. Shrugging the thought away, Zevran stepped back out into the crisp morning, intending to sit by the fire whilst he waited for the warden and Leliana to return. He had decided to use the time productively, intending to coat Solona's arrows to give her an extra advantage in any upcoming fights. However, the sound of Wynne's distant voice caught his attention. Quietly, Zevran crept through the sparse trees that bordered one side of their camp site, until he was perched on a rocky ledge. His view point overlooked the large pond, that inhabited at least a quarter of the Dalish clearing. When he noticed it was Solona that Wynne was speaking to, he couldn't help finding a place to watch.

"You're quite taken with each other, aren't you?" the elder mage said, pleasantly.

From his perch, Zevran watched as Solona briefly knelt to fill her water skin, admiring her natural grace as she moved. Her silence led him to wonder if the warden was actually going to answer the older women, and what that would mean for the pair of them. Then again, Wynne might not even be speaking about him. Hadn't he made the assumption there was something between the two wardens, maybe Wynne had done the same, or perhaps it was someone else entirely... Leliana perhaps? The two women were awfully close… not that _that_ wasn't a pleasant image. However, before Zevran's mind could start to fully wander down that path, Solona's voice interrupted his thoughts:

"You mean Zevran and me?" she asked, blatantly.

"I almost wish I didn't," Wynne replied, primly. "Half of us aren't getting any sleep, the way you two carry on at night."

Annoyance gripped Zevran as he narrowed his eyes at the scene in front of him. Quite frankly, he felt incensed. Due to Solona's concern for the others, the pair of them had not spent a night together whilst at camp... the previous one was the only exception, and Zevran was damned sure they hadn't been loud. In fact, he was adamant about it, for he spent part of the night amazed that his warden had been so quiet, especially when he lavished her with attention that usually made her moan with abandonment. So Zevran was certain that Wynne's comment was meant to provoke, and would undoubtedly upset Solona deeply, as she always put others first... something that he had long decided was an extreme fault of hers, even if it was endearing. However, the warden simply shifted her weight to one hip and raised an eyebrow.

"I'm very sorry for that Wynne. We'll try and keep it down next time," she retorted, deadpan.

Zevran barely stifled a chuckle.

"That's… kind of you…I suppose," the grey haired mage stuttered. "Anyway, I noticed your blossoming relationship, and wanted to ask where you thought it was going."

Just like that, Zevran's good mood vanished. He sat tense, waiting for his warden's reply, whilst trying to convince himself it was no big deal. They were friends, yes? Friends that had sex, and enjoyed each other's company a great deal, and had become each other's confidant… the tightness in his chest when he looked at Solona, the way her smile and laughter lit up his day, the fact that he missed her company when they weren't together… none of that meant anything, not at all. Yet, even with these reassurances, Zevran desperately wanted to know Solona's opinion. Though before she could answer, Wynne was speaking again.

"He seems to only have one thing on his mind," the older mage said, disapprovingly. "I question the wisdom of a Grey Warden being involved in such an affair."

Swallowing thickly, Zevran couldn't even find it in himself to be angered by Wynne's words, he'd always known that he was not good enough for Solona. Having someone else point out her error of judgement, was simply going to hurry the arrival of the warden's own realisation., something that Zevran had been sure Solona would reach someday soon anyway. And if that knowledge hurt, well… such is life. If he had turned away a moment sooner, Zevran would have missed the slight tensing of Solona's jaw, and the way her eyes seemed to flash a more vibrant green, before she clenched her fists by her sides. It was more than evident that the warden was trying to hold her temper, however her words were an utter surprise to him.

"How dare you?!" she demanded, tersely. "How dare you judge him?!"

"You are a Grey Warden. You have responsibilities that supersede your personal desires," Wynne state,d harshly.

Solona gave a short bark of laughter, and Zevran swore he saw a brief flash a flame as she did.

"You seek to tell me my duties?" she asked, incredulously. Her voice raising in volume for the first time since he had known her. "You may have more years of experience when it comes to being a mage, Wynne, but you do not know the first thing about being a Warden. The only other person in all of Ferelden who does is Alistair, who decided to defer to me and my decisions, despite _him_ being the senior warden.”

She paused to sigh angrily, before continuing: “It would not be unrealistic to say the weight of at least the country is on my shoulders, if not more. Through everything, I have done the best with what I have. I have never been too proud or too stubborn, to listen or seek out advice or guidance regarding a mission, and I have _never_ failed in my duty as a Grey Warden. However, I am also a human being. A real person with actual emotions and most of the time, it seems only Zevran gives a damn about that fact!"

Her last sentence was delivered with a positive shout, earning the attention of everyone else in camp. Everyone bar Leliana that was, who was conspicuously missing, not that Zevran paid that fact much heed. Not with the scene unfolding in front of him.

"Child, you must understand," Wynne started. "Love is ultimately selfish. It demands that one be devoted to a single person, who may fully occupy one's mind and heart, to the exclusion of all else. A Grey Warden cannot afford to be selfish."

Love. That was a big word, and one that scared Zevran half to death. A word for an emotion that he didn't believe in, at least not for himself. An emotion he highly doubting Solona felt for him…

"Love?!" Solona practically scoffed.

That single word and her tone of voice, constricted Zevran's chest in a way he didn't think possible. A sinking feeling settled in his gut, though he still couldn't fathom why. He and Solona were merely friends, friends with some delectable benefits, but that was all. Love... that was something else...

"What do you know about love Wynne?” she continued. “That may sound awfully presumptuous, but no more so than you are being. You don't know me... you are making that _abundantly_ clear. You may have lived in the tower, but other than a few meetings with Irving, I never saw you. And during the months we have travelled… our conversations have involved you lecturing me on different aspects of magic or history. So if in all this time, you don't know me… how the _damn_ do you think to know Zev? The only time you speak to him is to deride him, to try and make him feel bad for the person he is."

' _Ah'_ Zevran thought, wholly eloquently. It seemed the warden had overheard his interactions with Wynne over the past several weeks. Even though he had always turned them into a joke, brushing off the elder mage's comments with insolent banter, it didn't mean he _wasn't_ offended at least occasionally... though it seemed Solona was angry enough for both of them.

"What gives you the right to act so high and mighty, to look down your nose at others?" she demanded. "You look down on Morrigan for being an apostate, you look down on Zevran for simply being who he is, you look down on me for accepting others as they are. Damn it! You even look down on Cadoc for being a war dog for Maker's sake, demanding he be bathed like a lapdog!"

At that moment, the mabari barked, almost as if agreeing with his mistress' sentiment. Casting his gaze quickly about the others, Zevran noticed that the witch stood with her arms folded across her chest, a smirk tugging at her mouth. Despite the topic of conversation... and he used that phrase loosely, Zevran was actually enjoying watching Solona lose her temper for a change. It was a long time coming in his opinion.

"But I digress," the warden said, indignantly. "You mentioned love, and I have to laugh at your notion of it. I have not _once_ said I am in love with Zev, or he with me, we are two consenting adults who enjoy each other's company."

Shutting his eyes, Zevran tried to control the inexplicable emotion that came from hearing those words. It confused him, the sadness he felt, for hadn't he just been thinking the same thing?

"We have not known each other long enough to able to call any affection between us, love. However," Solona continued. "I care for him, a great deal, and I trust him... more than anyone else here. Not only with my life, but with my sanity. Without him, _exactly_ the way he is, I am sure I would have cracked under all the pressure."

The hurt that he had unexpectedly felt, vanished. Only to be replaced by a strange mix of pride and humbleness. Zevran smiled at her words. He could admit, he cared for her too... which wasn't as scary as he would have once expected, and he certainly trusted her. Last night had solidified that for him, her defence of him today only strengthened his opinion.

"Perhaps, if you took the time to _actually_ get to know him, instead of judging him or assuming things about him, you might understand,” she hissed. “And that goes for your attitude towards everyone else as well."

With that, Solona turned on her heel and stalked away from Wynne, leaving their spectators in shock. Well, Alistair and Bodahn looked shock. Morrigan looked pleased, Sten seemed indifferent and Sandal didn't seem to understand what had happened. Only Cadoc followed the warden, trotting after her with a happy yap. Leliana chose that moment to reappear, though not down by the pond with the others, but directly at Zevran's side. The only thing that stopped him from flinching in surprise was his years of training.

"Very good, my dear bard," he greeted, smirking.

His fellow rogue merely returned a sweet smile. "You are aware, that is not the first time she has defended you or your relationship, no?"

Zevran raised an eyebrow in question.

"Her meeting with the Keeper, ended much the same way,” the bard explained. “She does truly care for you, Zevran. Though if she finds out you heard anything from me, you will owe me new shoes, yes?"

 


	31. A Copper for Your Thoughts (Amell PoV)

Sitting crossed legged on the soft ground, clad in borrowed brown leggings and a russet tunic... courtesy of Lanaya, Solona gave a weary sigh. The thick smoke from the herbal fire made her eyes water, yet the curious resin that had been added to the kindling was fragrant enough. A hoarse cough caught her attention, and shifting to kneel beside the cot she'd held vigil by for the past three hours, Solona held a bottle of health potion to the elf's parched lips.

"Rest, Deygan," she soothed, as the hunter tried to speak.

Gently, Solona stroked his fevered brow with a damp cloth, helping him ease back into sleep, before lapsing back into her own thoughts. It had been a long day, and only the western part of the Brecilian Forest had been scouted. It would take another gruelling day to traverse the eastern side. But at least Mithra had been kind enough to teach them how to mark their path, in a way that wouldn't be disturbed by the local floral or fauna, which meant they could head straight for the intersection at day break. It was a small mercy, given that they had bumbled around like lost nugs today, though perhaps that had not been such a bad thing... since they had managed to find the ironbark for Varathorn, and taking the wrong path had led them to where Deygan had lay, all but dying in the dirt. However, they had also encountered a talking tree who called itself the Grand Oak, as well as encountering a talking werewolf; apparently named Swiftrunner... and wasn't it a shame that he hadn't been happy to _just_ talk, as the tree had been. Solona sighed, resting her head against Deygan's cot. The whole mess the Dalish found themselves in seemed _off_ to her, and the fact Zathrian had failed to mention that the werewolves were not mindless beasts, only added to the fact. Swiftrunner certainly hadn't been mindless... aggressive, yes. Single-minded, certainly. But definitely not mindless, and Solona couldn't help the feeling that she wasn't being told the whole truth, which put her on edge. She didn't like putting her friends in unnecessary danger, and yet, since bring Deygan back to the Dalish camp, the elves had been nothing but open and helpful. Well, all except their Keeper, who had secluded himself away in his aravel... and wasn't _that_ convenient.

"A copper for your thoughts, that's what you human's say, isn't it?" a sweet voice asked, from the other side of the fire.

Looking up, Solona smiled easily at Lanaya. "It is, but there's nothing much to tell. Just trying to plan out tomorrow in my head, and hoping we come out of it unscathed."

It wasn't a complete lie, and she figured it sounded a lot more reasonable than: You're Keeper is a liar, and if his lies gets one of my friends hurt, I will have his head on a platter. That... and Solona genuinely like Lanaya. Whatever Zathrian wasn't telling them, it wasn't the woman's fault.

"You care a great deal," the elf stated, smiling.

As she came to sit next to her, Solona noticed that Lanaya carried a small package, bound in what appeared to be thin birch bark, tied with some sort of vine. Her curiosity must have been evident, for the other woman chuckled.

"Here, before I forget,” Lanaya said. “Varathorn asked me to give it to you, said he hoped you'd forgive him but he forgot he had these, and to take them as part of the payment for the ironbark, along with the bow he's crafting for you."

Solona's brow furrowed as she took the small package and carefully unwrapped it. Unexpected tears of appreciation welled up in her eyes, as she carefully ran a bare fingertip across the soft, warm brown leather. If he had been here, Solona would have hugged Varathorn.

"They are excellent quality, as I'm sure you're aware. Though seem a little large for you," Lanaya stated,knowingly.

Smiling wryly, Solona shrugged. "They're for a gift. When I went to barter with Varathorn before we set out, I enquired if he had any Dalish made gloves that would fit a man. He told me he only had ones to fit a woman, and as tempted as I was…"

"The gift was more important," the elf concluded. "They are for your Zevran, are they not?"

At that, Solona raised an eyebrow, causing Lanaya to laugh.

"The whole camp has heard of your… conversation with Zathrian. And a few of us, including the Keeper, have caught wind of the _disagreement_ with your elder mage as well. It is unusual for a human and an elf to become friends, let alone for a human to defend an elf so vehemently."

"It's stupid and disgusting," Solona grit out. "How Maker damned blind does someone need to be, not to realise that elves are equal to humans?! It's more absurd than the powers that be demanding mage's be locked up, like we are animals.” She paused to sigh. “And if you hadn't guessed, I'm rather opinionated on both subjects."   
  
"So it seems, falon," Lanaya grinned. "But we have more important things to do tonight, than put Thedas to rights. You have an important package to deliver, and I will take my turn watching over Deygan."  
  
Squeezing the elf's hand in thanks, Solona stood to brush off her borrowed clothes. "If you need any help…" she began, only to be cut off.  
  
"I think you will be too busy to come to my aid tonight," Lanaya chuckled, giving her a knowing look.  
  
Smiling, Solona shook her head and set off towards the camp's main clearing. The sun had already set, and a indigo haze rose above the treeline. Shadows had begun to creep along the ground, cast by the large camp fire that dominated the more populated part of the clearing. Idly, Solona wondered if she would find Zevran there, only to be halted in her thoughts and tracks, as a pair of strong arms encircled her waist. The welcome smell of sandalwood washed over her, as warm lips caressed the side of her neck.  
  
"Cariño," Zevran whispered next to her ear. "A moment of your time, if I may."

* * *

**Author's Note** **  
Falon (fah-LOHN) – elven word meaning friend.  
Deygan is the Dalish hunter you encounter during Wounded in the Woods.**

 


	32. The Gift of Distraction (Zevran PoV)

"Gloves? You're giving me gloves? What for?" Zevran demanded.

He hoped Solona didn't notice the way his hands trembled as he held the gloves. This… gift. A gift that _she_ had given _him_. Why had she given him gloves? And why was his heart beating so fast? The wolf pelt had been confusing enough, though Zevran had managed to convince himself it was a gesture born of necessity. This… this most certainly was not. For his current pair had not even been damaged, not in the slightest, and this new pair had even been _wrapped_. Lacking the knowledge of what he was supposed to _do_ upon receiving a gift, Zevran desperately tried to figure out how they had gotten into the situation in the first place. Just hours ago, they had returned from scouting the western side of the Brecilian Forest, a wounded hunter supported between himself and Leliana. Morrigan maintaining a protective barrier around them, whilst Solona tried to heal the Dalish elf as they walked. The moment they arrived back at the camp, the warden had been whisked away somewhere by the clan's First. And according to Alistair, Solona had then spent several hours beside the sickbed of the recovering hunter. Which really came as little surprise, given her kind and caring nature... something Zevran was certain would get her killed one day. He had spent that time tending his daggers, chatting amicably with Leliana as they sat by the Dalish camp fire, listening to Sarel spin several tales. But when the sun had begun to set, Zevran had grown concerned about Solona's prolonged absence. Not that he would ever admit that was what caused of him to go looking for her, should anyone have asked, which they thankfully didn't. Once he had located Solona, it had been second nature to wrap his arms around her waist, and pull her close. A part of him had worried at the implications of that, but he had pushed those thoughts aside... as usual. They had walked, hands loosely clasped, towards their own small camp site, with a few dancing werelights guiding their feet. They had ignored the contemptuous glare from Wynne, and a furiously blushing Alistair, choosing to make their way to the warden's tent without preamble. However, Zevran had barely managed to steal a kiss from her plush red lips, before Solona had handed him the seemingly innocent package.

"They're Dalish gloves," she said, softly. "Like your mother's."

His gaze snapped to her face, sure he would see a mocking sneer to belie the gentle tone of her words... because this was surely some kind of cruel joke, a malicious act meant to shame him somehow. Yet all he saw was a slightly shy smile, and a small from on her brow, not in anger but in concern. For all intents and purposes, Solona looked a little nervous, and perhaps slightly bashful. It was so unexpected and charming, that Zevran's distrust melted away instantly. He chuckled nervously, and hoping to hide his own embarrassment, his gaze fell to the gloves to give them closer inspection. The tent was suddenly illuminated by a dozen more werelights, enabling him to appreciate the craftsmanship better. A smile tugged at his lips at Solona's thoughtfulness, feeling guilty that he had been suspicious of her. He carefully traced the knotwork that had been stitched into the hide, admiring the design.

"They are like my mother's. The leather was less thick, and they had more embroidery, but these are very close," he enthused, slipping them on. "And quite handsome."

"Just like the elf they belong too," Solona smiled, kissing him softly on cheek. "You're welcome, by the way.”

"Do I see surprised? Perhaps I am," Zevran admitted.

He kept his tone jovial, despite rapid beating of his heart, and the knots trying to tie themselves in his gut. This was so far out of his comfort zone, Zevran didn't think he could find an even footing even if he tried. Though he did know he was supposed to do something in this situation, and more importantly he actually _wanted_ to, he just didn't know what. So swallowing thickly, Zevran took hold of Solona's hands in his.

"I appreciate the fact you even thought of me," he tried to explain. "No one has simply… given me a gift before. Thank you."

A brief look of surprise flitted across his warden's face. "I'm glad you like them. Though you did have me worried for a moment."

"Oh? Then I must apologise. How can I make it up to you Cariño?" Zevran grinned, wickedly.

Solona chuckled. "You're the great Zevran Arainai, are you not?" she purred, gripping the collar of his tunic and pulling him closer. "I'm sure you can think of something.”

"Yo más bien lo pueden," Zevran assured.

He leant his weight forward, effectively pushing Solona to lay back on the furs that lined the floor of her tent. For a heartbeat, he held himself above her, simply admiring her beauty. Her tousled red hair splayed around her head like a fiery halo, the faint shine of green beneath her half-closed lids, and most of all, her berry red mouth that just begged to be kissed. His arousal grew for her, as he watched her tongue dart out to wet her lips. Without warning, Solona surged upwards and deftly ran her tongue along the tapered curve of his right ear. Involuntarily, Zevran moan in pleasure, eliciting a sultry chuckle from his warden. Without thinking, he tangled his fingers in her unruly locks, as she looked up at him through her lashes, her arms snaking around his neck.

"Mi tentadora," he growled, softly.

"My assassin," she replied.

No matter how many times he heard Solona call him _hers_ , it always left Zevran feeling just a little breathless... it made his heart beat just a little faster. Once again, the implications of that were more than a little frightening, so he chose the course of action he felt most comfortable with... and refused to think on it. Instead, he crashed his lips to hers in a hungry, demanding kiss, determined to drive all conscious thought away. He may not be able to give Solona a gift in return, but Zevran certainly knew how he intended to repay her kindness.

* * *

**Author's Note** **  
'Yo más bien lo pueden' roughly translates to 'I most certainly can'  
'Mi tentadora' means 'My temptress'**

 


	33. Nature of the Beast (Amell PoV)

The sound of ferocious roars and vicious snarls echoed around the ruined chamber. The only light was from weak dappled sunlight, that seeped into the room through various cracks in the once solid stone structure. The wan rays barely illuminated the pack of werewolves that slathered and growled as they past. Solona had no idea if werewolves could smell fear like mabaris could, but she wasn't prepared to take any chances... the fight through the ruins had been gruelling enough. With both herself and Morrigan having seriously depleted their lyrium supply, Leliana slightly limping from a twisted ankle, and Zevran sporting a wicked looking scratch a long the length of his jaw... Solona wasn't inclined to push their luck. Even if she was brimming with more anger than she perhaps should be. It was rare that any of them came out of a fight unscathed, but seeing that werewolf attempt to maul Zevran had set her blood boiling. Thankfully, she had the presence of mind to cast a Winter's Grasp instead of Inferno to help him, and the assassin had subsequently assured them all that he was perfect fine. Still, it was too close for her liking, and the panic that had gripped her, had not fully abated. As if reading her mind, Zevran's hand discretely stroked down the back of her arm, stopping just short of the edge of her wrist wraps.   
  
"Estar preparado," he whispered in her ear.  
  
She nodded in agreement, glad to have actually understood his Antivan for once.  
  
"What comes?" Morrigan questioned in a hushed voice.  
  
Solona peered through the gloom, and saw what appeared to be an apparition of a woman, weaving it's way through the throng of werewolves. It only stopped once it had reached the one they'd come to know as Swiftrunner. The figure glimmered, seeming to cast her own incandescent light, which caused Solona to wonder what manner of spirit this was. For it was obvious that this woman was not human, nor elf.  
  
"A nature spirit," Morrigan gasped quietly, confirming Solona's own suspicions. "That is old and powerful magic indeed.”  
  
Powerful was perhaps an understatement, for the air positively crackled with unspent energy, currents so strong that Solona could feel the hairs on the back of her neck begin to rise. It was like the beginnings of a thunderstorm. The magic was so palpable, you could almost taste it, and the distinct smell of the fade began to permeate around the closed chamber. Suddenly, the werewolves quietened and abruptly dropped to their knees, in obvious reverence to the spirit. A shaft of well place light illuminated the figure fully now, and Solona took in the sight. It appeared part humanoid, and part plant. Twisted vines seemed to form the figures legs and hands. With greenish-grey skin, hair of jet and eyes of coal. It was a striking sight. As eerie as the form was, there was something undeniably beautiful about the spirit, and an unmistakable feeling of calmness radiated from her.  
  
"I bid you welcome, mortal. I am the Lady of the Forest," the spirit greeted, sounding ageless.  
  
Cautiously, Solona stepped forward, careful to keep her posture relaxed and pace slow. The last thing she wanted was to panic the werewolves into attacking. Unless they or the spirit made the first move, She'd already decided there would be no more bloodshed.

“I give you my thanks,” she replied, bowing her head slightly in respect. “I am glad we have this chance to talk.”

“Do not listen to her, my lady,” Swiftrunner interrupted, growling. “She will betray you. We must attack her now.”

Despite the threat, Solona felt sorry for the werewolf. It was clear he was afraid for the spirit's safety, which further confirmed her suspicion that these were not mindless creatures, driven purely by instinct. Swiftrunner was wanting to protect someone who he cared about, something Solona understood and could empathise with. Not that it made her any less wary of the situation.

“Hush Swiftrunner,” the Lady implored. “Your urge for battle has only seen the deaths of the very ones you are trying to save. Is that what you want?”

“No, my lady. Anything but that,” the werewolf replied, deflating.

“The time has come to speak with this outsider. To set our rage aside,” the spirit continued, seemingly addressing the rest of the werewolf pack. “I apologise on Swiftrunner's behalf,” the Lady said, turning to Solona once again. “He struggles with his nature.”

“As we all do, my lady,” she replied, solemnly.

“Truer words were never spoke,” the Lady agreed, closing the distance between them, until they stood a mere arm's length apart. “But few could claim the same as these creatures. Their very nature is a curse forced upon them. No doubt you have questions, mortal. There are things that Zathrian has not told you.”

“There is truly no surprise in that,” Zevran muttered.

“Would you enlighten us?” Solona requested.

Never breaking eye contact, the spirit nodded before silently inviting them to sit, leading them to a large fallen tree truck that had seemingly lived it's entire cycle within the walls of the chamber.

“It was Zathrian who created the curse that these creatures suffer, that Zathrian's own people now suffer,” the Lady stated. “Centuries ago, when the Dalish first came to this land, a tribe of humans lived close to this forest. They sought to drive the Dalish away. Zathrian was a young man then, he had a son and daughter he loved greatly. And while out hunting, the human tribe captured them both.”

“Dear Maker,” Leliana muttered, eyes downcast.

“The humans tortured the boy, killed him. The girl they raped, and left for dead,” Swiftrunner snarled. “The Dalish found her, but she learned later that she was... with child.”

Solona shut her eyes, as tears threatened to spill. To her mind, it was a hard task to find any fate worse than that for a woman, of any race. It made her shudder to think of it, but Zevran's quiet voice broke into her troubled thoughts.

“Malvado,” he whispered, shaking his head.

“She killed herself?” Morrigan questioned, her tone remarkably soft.

Swiftrunner nodded in response, his gaze settling on a spot of moss covered paving slab, and did not look up again.

“I'm inclined to say the humans deserved whatever they got,” Solona admitted.

“Indeed they did,” the Lady agreed, sadly.

Swiftrunner suddenly stood to his full height, and on hind legs, loped towards them. “Zathrian came to these ruins, and summoned a terrible spirit and bound it to the body of a great wolf. So Witherfang came to be,” he explained. “Witherfang hunted the human tribe. Many were killed, but others were cursed with his blood. Becoming twisted and savage creatures.”

At this news, Solona's eyes snapped to Zevran. Her gaze lingering on the swipe mark along his jaw. The elf turned his amber eyes to her, there was a hint of concern in the look, though he was covering it well. If she hadn't grown to know him so well, Solona may have missed it.

“Twisted and savage just as Witherfang himself is. Though do not worry about your mate, mortal. The curse can only be passed on through a bite, he is quite safe,” the spirit stated.

Palpably relieved by the Lady's words, Solona almost missed Zevran being referred to her as her 'mate'. Though when it had sunk in, she raised an eyebrow, regarding the assassin's surprised look. Though was secretly pleased he didn't look upset with the thought.

“Thank you for your reassurance, my lady,” Solona replied, smiling briefly. “But please continue.”

Inclining her head in acquisition, the spirit rose from her seated position. “They were driven into the forest. When the human tribe finally left for good, their cursed brethren remained. Pitiful and mindless animals.”

“Until I found you, my lady,” Swiftrunner interjected, dropping to bended knee beside the spirit. “You gave me peace.”

“I showed Swiftrunner there was another side to his bestial behaviour,” the spirit explained. “I soothed his rage, and his humanity emerged. He bought others to me.”

Nodding in understanding, Solona steeled herself to ask the next question. “Why did you ambush the Dalish? Was it for revenge?”

“We seek to end the curse. The crimes committed against Zathrian's children were grave, but they were committed centuries ago, by those long dead,” the lady said. “Word was sent to Zathrian every time the land-ships passed this way, asking him to come. But he has always ignored us, and we will no longer be denied.”

“We spread the curse to his people so he must end the curse to save them,” Swiftrunner elaborated.

“Please mortal, you must go to him. Bring him here,” the Lady implored. “If he sees these creatures, hears their plight, surely he will agree to end the curse.”

Sighing inwardly, Solona rose from her improvised seat, entirely doubtful that the Keeper would see any reason or have any compassion for the werewolves. However, she was still willing to try and persuade him. She truly believed that innocents were now suffering for a centuries old crime, human and elf alike.

“Alright,” she agreed, cautiously. “I will bring Zathrian here.”

“Kicking and screaming if we must,” Morrigan added, almost under her breath.

“Tell him, if he refuses, I will ensure Witherfang is never found. He will never cure his clan,” the spirit warned.

“Reasonable enough,” Zevran agreed, sombrely.

“Outside of this chamber, the passage leading back to the surface has been opened for you,” the Lady explained, indicating to a inconspicuous stone door, that was barely visible in the gloom. “Return with Zathrian as soon as you can.”

* * *

**Author's Note**

**First up, translations: 'Estar preparado' means 'Be prepared' and 'Malvado' means 'Wicked'.**

  
  


 


	34. The Other Side (Zevran Pov)

As they jogged up the flight of cracked and decrepit stone stairs, Zevran couldn't help but keep an eye on the warden. He knew Solona had been affected by the spirit's tale, and the werewolves' plight, he also suspected she was more than a little angry that Zathrian had withheld vital information from them. Not that Zevran himself was at all surprised by that fact, still it irked him that the Keeper thought to treat his warden so poorly. His. When did he start thinking of Solona as _his_? Zevran had truly meant that he would never hold claim to her, nor seek anything she was not willing to give. Though since being with her... as the days turned to weeks, and weeks into months... the thought of Solona with another... Zevran let out a small sigh. He could well recall the way Solona had responded when the werewolf had caught him, he could remember the look of fear in her emerald eyes. How annoyed she had been, when he had declined her healing magic in order to save her mana, and how gently she had administered the health poultice. Despite being worried himself about becoming cursed, Zevran had been more rattled by how much Solona seemed to genuinely care for his well being. And after her acceptance of his scars, her defence of him to others and then the gloves... it was all a little disconcerting to him. Not to mention, that he'd not long ago been referred to as the warden's 'mate'... by a spirit of the forest no less. The fact that it wasn't true was merely a side note, since Zevran had been more surprised that he hadn't felt panic grip him at the thought. That, and the realisation Solona hadn't denied the fact, even in front of two of her closest friends. There was only one other person in his life that had never denied him, had never been embarrassed or ashamed to admit there was something between them, and that had been Rinna. Which was a frightening, and unsettling, thought. One best reserved for another time.  
  
"And here you are already," a voice unexpectedly greeted them.  
  
It roused Zevran from his wandering mind, though he had already partly drawn his blades before he registered that the speaker was Zathrian.  
  
"Somehow, I expected to find you here?" Solona quipped, unimpressed.  
  
"Truly it is no surprise," Zevran agreed, sheathing his daggers.   
  
"Did you?" Zathrian questioned, pointedly ignoring his remark. "Aren't you the intuitive one?"  
  
"It would be best if you remembered it is you who require our help, more than we need yours," Leliana interjected, tersely.  
  
"There was no telling what would happen when you reached this ruin. So I decided to come myself," he shrugged.  
  
The gesture, though small, made Zevran want to plunge a knife in his fellow elf's neck. He could fully understand why Solona was siding with the werewolves.  
  
"You believe you would be able to best Witherfang should we fail, yet felt it necessary to endanger the warden with this fool errand in the first place?" Morrigan demanded, incredulously.   
  
Sighing, Solona shook her head. "You and I need to talk Zathrian."  
  
"Yes, yes. There will be plenty of time for that later. Did you acquire the heart?" the Keeper asked.  
  
His tone was so dismissive that Zevran bristled on Solona's behalf, his hand instinctively going for the small throwing dagger concealed in his belt. However, he simply settled on waiting, to see if the older elf was stupid enough to move against the warden. As he waited, Zevran idly thought back to earlier in the day, as they traipsed the labyrinth of ruined rooms. His mind settling on the strange occurrence, when both Solona and Morrigan swore they had 'conversed' with a elven spirit trapped in a phylactery. Despite the unusualness of it all, Zevran couldn't help but wonder if the warden would want to explore the possibilities that had arisen from that event; the ability to advance her mage skills. He was fairly certain that the witch would be happy sticking to her shape-shifting... but Solona... Zevran figured she would have more roguish tendencies, since she could already use a bow. At least, he hoped she would. The skill might have been have translated from elven to common as 'Arcane Warrior', but there were _very_ few Warrior elves. Rogue was much more likely, which meant he could help train her, _if_ she would allow. Which was an unexpectedly inviting thought. Though Solona's sharp answer pulled Zevran from his musings.  
  
"No."   
  
"You didn't? May I ask why then, are you leaving the ruin?" Zathrian demanded.  
  
"Ah, so you knew about the ruin?" Zevran asked, smiling wickedly. "That is convenient, no? And surprising you did not tell our dear warden such information."  
  
"Why exactly didn't you tell us about the ruins?" Solona added.  
  
"There was no need. I knew you would find it, and I didn't come to give you history lessons on things that have no baring on your purpose here," the Keeper answered, dismissively. "But it seems the spirit has convinced you to act on her behalf. Might I enquire what she wants?"

"It would be interesting to know what you think she wants," Morrigan drawled, disdainfully. “Not to mention that you knew about the spirit.”   
  
"To survive, I suspect. That is the common want among all such creatures." The Keeper began to pace as he spoke, his robes kicking up dust as it swept along the neglected stone floor. "You do realise she actually _is_ Witherfang?"  
  
"Yes," Solona replied, simply.  
  
"Tis obvious," Morrigan agreed.  
  
For a brief moment both Zevran and Leliana shared a look. It hadn't been obvious to the two rogues, though he supposed that might have something to do with neither of them being magically inclined. Despite feeling a little out of the loop, he couldn't help but smirk at how the two mage's knowledge seemed to deflate the Keeper. For Zathrian now stood with his shoulders sagged, eyeing the warden cautiously.  
  
"She is the powerful spirit of this ancient forest that I summoned long ago, and bound in the body of a wolf," the Keeper explained. "Her nature is that of the forest itself. Beautiful and terrible, serene and savage, maiden and beast."  
  
Zevran's smirk turned softer at hearing the other elf's description. If he hadn't have known better, Zathrian could almost be describing Solona. As beautiful and serene as she normally was, she was fierce in battle. Death in the form of terrible fireballs and savage arrows. A force to be reckoned with, something he doubted the Keeper had taken into account.  
  
"The curse came from her first," Zathrian continued. "Those she afflicted with it, mirrored her own nature. Becoming savage beasts, as well as human."   
  
"Surely the curse came first from you," Leliana stated.  
  
"They attacked us first, and they were the same savages then as they are now," the Keeper defended, angrily. "They deserve to be wiped out, and not defended."   
  
"No. The original humans were savages," Solona countered, her tone strong but not unkind. "And they paid for their crimes, a long time ago."  
  
"These creatures are not to blame for what befell your family. They are innocents suffering for crimes they did not commit," Morrigan argued.  
  
"As are your own people," the warden added.  
  
It came as no surprise to Zevran that Solona was walking the path of reason, what was unusual was that Morrigan seemed Fade-bent on helping her. He'd never seen nor heard, the witch defend anyone but herself and her existence as an apostate. Not that he blamed her, selfishness was needed to survive in this world after all. But the fact that Morrigan was defending the werewolves was, well... shocking, to say the least. He wondered how much of it was Solona's influence rubbing off. Shaking his head, Zathrian strode past them, barely pausing to address the warden.

"Come. I will accompany you back to the ruin. Let us go speak to the spirit, and I will force her into Witherfang's form. He may then be slain, and the heart taken.”  
  
Solona's hand shot out and clasped the Keeper's forearm, and Zathrian whirled to face her. The atmosphere was charged and tense as the two mages faced each other. Without hesitation, Zevran drew the dagger closest to Zathrian, but the swipe was halted when the warden caught his own wrist with her free hand. However, her emerald gaze never broke eye contact with the Keeper.   
  
"I assure you, the werewolves have regained their minds," she implored.  
  
"Even so, they are still the same worthless creatures that their ancestors were," Zathrian scoffed. "They deserve nothing more than the misery they possess. This is not your battle, Grey Warden. Let us just take the heart, and be done with it."  
  
"Why? Because they were Shems?" Zevran interjected, lowering his blade.   
  
He hated using that term for humans. He honestly thought it was ridiculous, but felt that playing the 'elf card' might help diffuse the situation. Not that he wouldn't happily slit Zathrian's throat in an instant. However, Solona wanted to resolve this peacefully, which meant Zevran was inclined to do his best to aid her efforts.   
  
"You are being short sighted, my friend," he added.  
  
"Won't you at least consider talking to them?" the warden asked, her voice kind and gentle.  
  
Zathrian's eyes narrowed. "Why? You claim they have regained their minds, but they are still savage beasts. Their nature is unchanged. All they want is revenge, or a release that I will not give them. No, let us take the heart and end it."  
  
"Do you still have so much hatred after all this time?" Leliana questioned, softly.   
  
"You were not there, you didn't..." the Keeper's voice halted, his eyes clenching shut. "You didn't see what they did to my son. My daughter. And so many others."  
  
Unexpectedly, the warden's grasp shifted from Zathrian's forearm to his hand, squeezing it gently in a reassuring manner. Zevran would have laughed at the look of utter shock on the Keeper's face, if the tension hadn't still been palpable. For a heartbeat, Zathrian seemed to calm, to take comfort in Solona's small gesture. Before he visibly shook himself, flinging her hand away as if she had burnt him.  
  
"You are no Dalish," he continued. "How could you know how we struggled to be safe? How could I let their crimes go unanswered?"  
  
"I don't need to be Dalish to understand how abhorrent their crimes were," the warden replied, patiently. "But the perpetrators are long since dead."  
  
"I have sworn to protect my people, and I shall. I will not lift a finger to help the descendants of those savages," the Keeper ranted.  
  
A sigh threatened to escape Zevran's lips as he watched the debated. Knowing Solona as well as he did now, he could tell her own frustration was rising. It was evident by the tight set of her jaw, the slight glint in her verdant eyes. Most would have missed the signs, would have continued to have seen only the geniality Solona wished to portray. However, Zevran _knew_ her.  
  
"You do not even know if these werewolves are their descendants or hapless travellers caught by the curse. They might not all have been human either, and your own people are suffering now," the warden argued. "All I am proposing is that you at least meet with them first."  
  
"And what if it is revenge they want, and not talk?" Zathrian asked. "Will you safeguard me from harm?"   
  
"I don't think it will come to that, but we will. Unless you attack first," Solona warned.  
  
"I don't see the point in this," the Keeper stated, rubbing his forehead. "But very well. It _has_ been many centuries now. Let us see what the spirit has to say."  
  
With a nod, the warden gestured Zathrian to lead the way, accompanied by Morrigan and Leliana. The witch departed by giving the warden a look, one that Zevran could not discern. Though it seemed to be one that Solona evidently understood, for she gave a small smile in response. Before Zevran had chance to follow, the warden stopped him, a hand gently cupping the side of his face. A cool, soothing sensation washed over his jaw, and he felt the wound left by the werewolf scratch finally knitting together.   
  
"Personally, I think your scars add to your air of danger, but I know how vain you are," Solona told him sweetly, a brief flash of mischief in her eyes.  
  
"Mi querida, it is not vanity when it is perfection you are maintaining," he teased in reply.

Carefully, he brushing an errant lock of hair away from her face, and in the span of a heartbeat, a myriad of silent emotions passed between them. Neither seeming to want to voice what they truly felt. Though the weight of Solona's gaze left Zevran's mouth dry, he had never thought to see such emotions directed at him. Then without warning, she closed the distance between them, stopping only when her luscious lips were a mere hair's breadth away from his. It broken the unusual moment, dissolved the tension between them. It was a welcomed respite, which Zevran presumed was the warden's intention.   
  
"You're over dressed for perfection," Solona whispered, conspiratorially.  
  
The warden's lips barely ghosted across his, before she quickly slipping back out of his grasp. Zevran almost groaned in frustration as he watched her saunter towards the stairs. She paused, looking back alluringly over her shoulder, with a hand placed against the stonework of the cracked doorway.  
  
"Thank you, by the way," she called.  
  
Zevran smirked at her. "And what are you thanking me for, cariño?"  
  
"For your support," she replied.   
  
With that, Solona disappeared into the gloom of the narrow stairwell, leaving him staring at the space she had occupied. After a moment, Zevran shook his head, and chuckling he followed her descent.

 


	35. Still Alive (Amell PoV)

Solona sighed wearily. It was over. The curse lifted and those afflicted with it cured. However, returning to the Dalish camp had not felt like a victory. With both Zathrian and the Lady giving their lives to end the werewolf curse, it felt a little hollow. They didn't even have a body to present to Lanaya and the clan, the Keeper had simply crumbled to dust. Most likely the affect of a life of centuries, prolonged and sustained by magic. Thankfully, the Dalish hadn't held them responsible for the passing of Zathrian, Lanaya going so far as to remark it was probably a mercy. The new Keeper had even disclosed the location of a secluded hot spring, perhaps the clan's best kept secret of the area, as a way of more personal thanks. After all, treaties being honoured only made you so happy, especially when you were covered in blood and grim, aching from head to toe. So whilst Solona had been in talks from Lanaya, Morrigan and Leliana had sampled the hot spring, for posterity... apparently. They had returned with the verdict that it was every bit as wonderful as one would image, the fact the witch was actually smiling was a real testament to that, and Solona had made her way to the secluded grove as soon as her duties would allow. Her wash bag was in hand, along with a beautiful deep red tunic; an unexpected gift from Gheyna, for helping her reunite with Cammen. Solona had originally intended to wear it to the young couple's nuptials tomorrow, yet Lanaya had informed her it would be more of an honour if her group attended in their armour. Something about a blessing of warriors... Solona wasn't entirely sure she took in all the information, not that it mattered right then. She sighed again, this time in bliss, as she stepped into the hot spring. The warm, mineral infused water was divine. It instantly alleviated some of the pent up stiffness in her body, and the gentle babbling of the spring lulled her. The full moon was now high in the sky, casting a silvery glow on the glade. A scattering of summoned werelights added to the illumination, and the honey scent of wild flowers still hung thickly in the air. In short, even to a mage, the hot spring seemed magical.  
  
Suddenly, a hand caressed her naked skin, stroking from her elbow up to her shoulder. Instead of starting, or casting a fireball as she was want to do when frightened, Solona simply smiled. She had learnt to recognise Zevran's touch. At first, she'd been surprised to learn that his hands were hardly calloused despite his constant use of dual blades, now it was something she appreciated greatly. Apparently they were kept soft by a cacophony of lotions and potions, insisted upon by the Crows. Or so Zevran said... since Solona was partially convinced the assassin was _just_ vain enough to come up with it on his own. She captured his hand and laying a kiss on the palm, whilst he kissed the junction where her should met her neck.  
  
"Zev," she greeted, warmly. "I was hoping you would join me."  
  
"What would the others say?" he teased.  
  
Solona hummed her approval, when Zevran's evident arousal pressed against her. "Do we care?"  
  
Slowly, she turned in his arms, but only managed a quick glance into his amber eyes, before her gaze settled on his lips. Chuckling, Zevran seemed to recognise her intent, for he closed the distance between them before she had a chance. Not that Solona was going to complain, and she happily snaked her arms around Zevran's neck, as his full lips caressed hers. His customary, sandalwood scent mixed with the heady perfume of the wild flowers, and somewhere in the distance an owl hooted. The feel of his wet, naked skin against hers was intoxicating. He tasted faintly of berry wine, which made Solona smile into their kiss.  
  
"You are in good humour, cariño," Zevran goaded.  
  
"And why wouldn't I be?" she quipped.  
  
Solona looked up at him from beneath her lashes, and ran her hands lightly down his well defined chest. Without warning, she found herself being picked up, with Zevran's hands firmly holding her rear. Instinctively, her legs wrapped around his waist, and Solona shivered slightly as the chilled air suddenly met her previously submerged skin.  
  
"Are you cold, my dear?" Zevran taunted.

His tongue quickly flicked over a stiffening peak, and Solona couldn't help but gasp and buck against him, as he repeated the action to her other breast. She scowled at him in mock annoyance as he chuckled at her reaction, before exacting revenge by licking up the tapered curve of his ear. A move that never failed to excite him.  
  
"Smug doesn't suit you," she warned.  
  
She whispered lowly into his ear as she spoke, eliciting a small shudder from him. The warm water lapped around them as Zevran carried her to the edge of the spring, his weight serving to balance her between his body and the rock wall.

"Yet you do not complain about my skill," he retorted.  
  
One of his hands leaving her rear, and quickly finding her sensitive nub, and his nibble fingers chased all thoughts of retorts from her mind. Moaning softly in pleasure, Solona let her head rest back on the rock as her hands gripped Zevran's biceps, in a feeble attempt to ground herself. Gasping out her enjoyment, she thought she heard him murmur: "Bonita", before his lips found hers again. With a mind of their own, her hands travelled up and over his strong shoulders, to tangled in his silky hair. Her eyes closed as she writhed against him, purposefully giving herself over to the sensations he brought her. When she felt Zevran's tongue glide against her lips, she gladly gave him entrance. Enjoying the languid kiss that was completely at odds with the heat and passion building between them. As Zevran gave her a particularly wonderful stroke, Solona's eyes snapped open, locking onto his amber gaze. Their many times together had rendered words obsolete, and Zevran understood her silent request. Slowly, he stopped his ministrations, before aligning himself with her. Nibbling her lower lip in expectation, Solona's eyes wandered his handsome face, drinking in his features before her gaze landed on his jaw. Though there was no mark remaining, her mind was immediately yanked back to earlier in the ruins. Tears threatened to form in Solona's eyes, and she swallowed thickly. Zevran must have noticed something was amiss, for he looked at her questioningly. It was then that she realised he was still poised, waiting to join with her. Not wanting to worry him, she kissed Zevran hungrily. The action fuelled by fear and concern, as much as passion and desire. Of their own volition, her hands wandered to cup his face, almost as if her subconscious was seeking out reassurance that he was not wounded.  
  
Obviously, Zevran took the kiss as assurance, swiftly pushing inside her. The delicious fullness made Solona moan into their kiss, and one hand slid to the back of his neck, whilst the other continued caressing his previously injured jawline. There was no doubt in Solona's mind that being with Zevran was somehow... _right_. His companionship always enjoyable, their union always pleasurable. Not that she would admit it to him, still fearing he would run a mile if he realised her deepening feelings for him. Though somehow, this time felt different. Their movements more erratic, their passion more fevered. It was almost as if he felt her tumultuous emotions, perhaps even understood. For when his eyes lock with hers, there was an intensity in Zevran's gaze that Solona hadn't seen before. It stole her breathe away, right up until he playfully nipped at her throat. Then it was as if a damn had been broken. Her lips crashed into his, savage and unyielding. An action he met with equal vigour. His fingers roughly dug into the flesh of her rear, and her nails scratched along the skin of his upper back. Solona broke the kiss to trail smaller ones along his jawline, unable to stop herself from paying special attention to the site of the wound, before travelling towards his sensitive ear. Zevran's breathe hitched and their rhythm stuttered as Solona gently nibbled his lobe, causing her to grin wickedly.  
  
"Solona," he huffed out, in a hoarse whisper.

Her eyes snap back to his, he never said her name during their encounters, or well... _ever_ , if she thought about it. She was so stunned, that his next forceful thrust caught her slightly by surprise, and she moaned loudly in pleasure. Zevran seemed to be spurred on by her reaction, for the pace he then set was unrelenting. Not wanting to be out done, Solona matching him move for move. Each roll of her hips eliciting a groan of pleasure from him, and each of his thrusts pulled a moan of delight from her. Some part of her mind realised that they were being a _lot_ louder than usual, but for once she didn't care. As far as Solona was concerned, they were celebrating being alive, and the Maker could spit on anyone who objected.

* * *

 

 ** Author's Note  
** **'Bonita' means 'Beautiful' in Antivan... I mean Spanish!**

 


	36. As the World Falls Down (Zevran PoV)

Zevran couldn't help the smirk that crossed his face, as he watched Solona pant heavily, and it wasn't only from the enticing rise and fall of her delicious bosom... though that was certainly a bonus. No, it was much more than that. Zevran was feeling rather proud of the fiery mage. As he'd hoped, the warden had come to him for instruction, desiring to learn how to duel wield, so she could make use of the arcane knowledge she'd acquired in the Bracilian ruins. Though Zevran was starting to think Solona would have asked eventually anyway.... since she carried around the dagger, that had once belong to Duncan, just as faithfully as she carried her bow. Unfortunately, that fine dagger had a rather underwhelming partner, a pathetic blade scrounged from Bodhan's dwindling stock. Not that it mattered right now. She was only training, and perhaps when she'd mastered the art, he could gift her a dagger worthy of it's partner.  
  
"Again!" Zevran instructed, chuckling when she groaned.  
  
He already considerably respect for Solona was growing. It was only her first lesson, and he could see she was exhausted, yet the warden didn't cast any rejuvenating magic on herself. Instead, she simply rolled her shoulders and began to circle him again. The leather skirt of her borrowed armour, kindly and discreetly leant by Leliana, swayed with her movements. Zevran's eyes drank in her form as he observed her movements, and was pleased to say she gave barely any tells, before springing forward to attack. He deflected easily, turning with the movement and forcing her off balance. Solona hit the ground, rolled, and was on her feet quickly before lunging. Again, Zevran easily foiled her attack, and in a quick flurry of movements had her on the defensive. Pulling an empty fade, he sought to knock her to the floor, however Solona swiftly pivoted. After that, everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Looking back, Zevran would never be able to explain how the warden's deflection managed to bring his blade closer to her, rather than force him away. Yet it did. Eyes widened in fear, his voice firmly stuck in his throat from shock, Zevran watched as his dagger sliced her porcelain neck. Solona dropped to her knees, weapons forgotten and hands clamped firmly to the wound. Nausea washed over him, and as he looked at her, Zevran was almost transported to a different time, a different place. A different victim. For a moment he saw Rinna staring accusingly at him...  
  
Then he was crouched next to Solona, with only seconds passing. One of his larger hands adding pressure, while the other stroked her sweat drenched hair out of her eyes. Zevran's heart frantically thumped against his ribs as panic gripped him. He was torn between wanting to stay, and the need to rush for help, until the latter won out. He had to make this right, he had to save her... he wouldn't have Solona's blood on his hands as well. She deserved more, and he had never meant to harm her. However, as Zevran rose to stand, one of Solona's blood soaked hands grabbed his wrist and halted his movements. Inexplicably, the warden gave him a tentative smile. Zevran couldn't believe how calm she seemed, or how gently she looked at him. There was no accusation, no reproach. That's when he felt it. The gentle tingle he'd come to associate with Solona's healing magic. Squinting slightly, Zevran thought he caught a faint shimmer of green surrounding her. However the fading light obscured all colours, instead bathing everything it touched with a golden sheen. The warden's smile never faltered, though she winced slightly when he caressed her throat, once she removed her other hand.  
  
"Still tender," Solona explained, her voice barely above a whisper. "Are you alright?"  
  
Was he... alright? He had just sliced open her throat, and she was asking if _he_ was alright?! The woman was mad. He regarded her in stunned silence for a moment, before the irrepressible urge to hold her took over. Almost roughly, Zevran crushed Solona to him. He pressed a kiss firmly to the top of her head. Anger, relief, guilt, elation... all seemed to suddenly explode with in him.  
  
"Cariño," he grit out through clenched teeth.  
  
"Hush," Solona soothed.

It was only when she gently wiped an errant tear with blood stained fingers, that Zevran realise he was crying.

"What's wrong?"  
  
"What's wrong?! You want me to tell you what is wrong?" he demanded, grabbing her shoulders and almost shaking her. "I nearly killed you! If you weren't a mage I _would_ have killed..."

His throat constricted, choking on the word and the knowledge of what he had done. Without deigning to reply, Solona turned her head, shunning him... or so Zevran thought, until he noticed her slender fingers trace along the length of her exposed throat, wiping some of the blood away.

"Not a mark," she stated, blasé.  
  
Shaking his head in disbelief, Zevran reached for her again. His bloodied hands tangled in her hair, unapologetically turning the locks a deeper red. Without request, Solona kissed him. The gesture so tender, it drew out more unwanted tears.  
  
"Cariño," he whispered against her lips.  
  
"There is obviously more on your mind than this accident," Solona remarked, resting her forehead against his. "Talk to me?"  
  
Swallowing thickly, Zevran couldn't bring himself to meet her eyes. How could he explain what he had done? How did one explain such a vile act? The fact that the warden didn't seem angry with his carelessness was a miracle. But even someone as patient and as kind as Solona was, would surely abandon him after such a confession. And yet, he felt he owned her that much. The truth... and so much more. Biting back a sigh, Zevran stole a kiss from Solona's unresisting lips, perhaps one that would be his last, and tried to settle himself in a more comfortable position. He sat crossed legged on the cold ground, pulling Solona into his lap. The small clearing they'd been practising in, was now filled with shadows, as the setting sun disappeared behind the treeline. The air was considerably cooler than before, since they'd reached the edge of the Frostbank Mountain range. It allowed Zevran to hold Solona tighter than he would have normally, able to hide his desire for comfort under the guise of preserving body heat.  
  
"Yes, I suppose it is time," he relented. "You've been a good friend to me, after all. There is no need to be silent."

In all honesty, Zevran could think of many reasons to remain silent, however all of them painted him a coward.

"There is a reason I accepted this mission in Fereldan, far away from home," he admitted, barely glancing at her. "And it had nothing to do with any thought that I might leave the Crows. Meeting you, after all, was quite an accident."  
  
Solona gently kissed cheek. "Not one I regret.”  
  
"Nor I," he agreed. "Though my last mission, before this one... did not end well."  
  
"Is this a story, or a confession?" the warden asked, but not unkindly.  
  
"I do not know," Zevran replied, cautiously. "A little of both, perhaps? You must realise, until that day, I was cocky and arrogant. I was the best Crow in Antiva, I believed, and I bragged of my conquests often... both as an assassin and lover."  
  
It was evident that Solona was trying to hold in a smile, especially as she bit her bottom lip in a vain attempt to hide it. "I'm sorry," she apologised. "But you were _more_ cocky? I'll let you off with the arrogant, you're not _that_ bad."  
  
Zevran managed a short chuckle, as he kissed her forehead. "Indeed. I was often told I was insufferable... right before I ended up in bed with someone. Such is how it was."

He actually felt embarrassed admitting this to the warden. Not merely due to his guilt about what he was going to reveal, but because he was starting to be ashamed of the life he had lived, the person he had been.  
  
"Well, you _are_ irresistible," Solona complimented.  
  
"You are too kind, mi querida." Indulging himself, Zevran hugged her even closer. "One of the Crow masters grew tired of my boasting. My bid for an incredibly difficult mark was accepted, much to my surprise: A wealthy merchant with many guards and completely silent. Taliesen agreed to be part of my team. As well as an elven lass named Rinna."  
  
He couldn't help but falter when saying her name, and Zevran's gaze fixed firmly on the ground beside him. Just thinking of Rinna was hard enough, but this was more difficult than he'd imagined. Once again, it wasn't until Solona was wiping a tear from his cheek, that he realise he was crying.  
  
"Tell me about her?" the warden requested, softly.  
  
"She was... a marvel," Zevran explained, awkwardly. "Tough, smooth, wicked. Eyes that gleamed like justice. Everything I thought I desired." He shut his eyes, dreading Solona's response.  
  
"You loved her?" she asked quietly.  
  
A sigh escaped him. "Rinna was special. I had closed off my heart, I thought, but she touched something within me. It frightened me.”  
  
At that exact moment, Zevran realised his feelings for Rinna paled in comparison compared to what he felt for Solona. His heart began to beat faster, as realisation dawned on exactly how much he could lose by telling the warden everything. His mouth went dry at the implication, and Zevran found himself shaking his head, in the hopes of clearing his thoughts.  
  
"You needn't to go on, if it's too difficult," Solona soothed.  
  
How the warden always managed to understand how he felt, was beyond Zevran. She _always_ knew, without fail. Yet this time it didn't bring him comfort, he needed to tell her what had happened, even if he didn't want to... which he really didn't. If Solona rejected him for it, it would be painful. It would drive a wedge between them, though it would give him time to come to his sense. If she didn't... He took a shuddering breath, trying to steel himself to continue.  
  
"Thank you, but it is alright. When Taliesen revealed to me that Rinna had accepted a bribe from the merchant, told him of our plan, I..." He swallowed past the lump forming in his throat.  
  
"Take your time," Solona reassured, gently.  
  
"I readily agreed that she needed to pay the price, and allowed Taliesen to kill her,” Zevran explained. "Rinna begged me not to. On her knees, with tears in her eyes, she told me she loved me and had not betrayed us. I laughed in her face and said that even if it were true, I didn't care."

He hung his head in shame, not daring to look at Solona. Unexpectedly, the warden didn't make a move to leave his embrace, if anything she moved in closer.  
  
"But that wasn't true."  
  
She sounded so sure, and Zevran's gaze snapped up to her beautiful face. His stomach lurched when he noticed the unshed tears in her emerald eyes, yet it was her look of concern that really undid him. Despite clenching his eyes shut, another rogue tear still escaped. There was a time Zevran would have been angry at himself, for showing such emotions, but right now he was too drained to fight it.  
  
"I convinced myself it was," he admitted, bitterly. "Taliesen cut her throat and I watched her bleed as she starred up at me. I spat on her for betraying the Crows. When Taliesen and I finally assassinated the merchant, we found the true source of his information. Rinna had not betrayed us after all."  
  
Solona did move then, and Zevran prepared himself for the inevitable rejection. Rejection that never came. The warden shifted to her knees, between his legs, and threw her arms around his neck in a tight embrace.  
  
"Zev, I'm so sorry.”  
  
More eager than he cared to admit, Zevran returned her fierce hold. "I... wanted to tell the Crows what we had done, our mistake. Taliesen convinced me not to. He said it would be a foolish waste. So we reported that Rinna had died in the attempt. We needn't have bothered, the Crows knew what we had done."  
  
"How...?" Solona began to ask.  
  
"The master that disliked me, told me so to my face," he explained. "He said the Crows knew... and they didn't care. And one day my turn will come."  
  
"Not if I can help it," she practically growled, drawing a small smile to his lips. "But why would he do that?"  
  
"To rub it in my face, perhaps?” Zevran shrugged. “That I saw nothing. That she was nothing."  
  
"You are _not_ nothing," Solona affirmed, cradling his face... thankfully, the blood had long since dried on her hands. "You are wonderful."  
  
Zevran gave a huff of humourless laughter, and shook his head in disagreement. "You once asked why I wanted to leave the Crows. In truth, what I wanted was to die. What better way than to throw myself at one of the fabled Grey Wardens?"  
  
The look of hurt that flashed across Solona's face would haunt Zevran as surely as the sight of her almost bleeding to death, and he truly understood how far he had fallen.  
  
"Then... this happened, and here I am."

Out of depth, in deep trouble, and more scared than he could ever remember. What the Fade was he thinking? Doing? Other than setting himself up for a painful fall.  
  
"Do you... still want to die?" Solona's voice was uncharacteristically small and unsure.  
  
"No," Zevran assured. "What I want is to begin again."  
  
The dangerous thought of _'with you'_ hovered around his head treacherously, and he literally bit his tongue. Ensuring that he wasn't entirely stupid and let it slip out. He hadn't turned into a complete fool, after all.  
  
"Whatever it is I sought by leaving Antiva, I think I have found it," he admitted, gently stroking the chilled skin of her arms. "I owe you a great deal."  
  
Solona's eyes widened slightly at his words, and it was only then that Zevran realise how they sounded. Especially when coupled with his actions, and how true that interpretation was. His hands shook slightly as they settled on her waist, and he inhaled deeply, wanting to calm the unwanted nerves that had begun to bubble up inside him. He braced himself for Solona's reply.  
  
"You don't owe me a thing, Zev," the warden smiled. "But I'm glad to have you with me... though we should probably get cleaned up."  
  
A sigh of relief escaped him, and he readily agreed to her suggestion, glad that Solona was not a woman to draw things out. Hurriedly, Zevran collected their discarded weapons, and they began to walk towards a nearby steam they had spotted earlier.  
  
"Allow me to tend them?" he requested.  
  
If the warden were to ask, Zevran would have dismissed the fact as practical, since Solona had yet to learn how to clean a blade properly. However, that was far from the truth. In reality he could not think of anything else to do as an apology, and as a gesture of gratitude. Until he could, tending her weapons was the best he could do. Solona eyed him critically.  
  
"If you're certain you do not mind," she said at length. "Though I do want you to teach me at some point. I'm guessing it will be part of my training after all."  
  
Her words stopped Zevran in his tracks. "You still wish for me to instruct you?"  
  
"Why wouldn't I?" she replied, looking truly perplexed. "One accident hasn't changed a thing. I still trust you implicitly."  
  
A bark of laughter was startled out of him, as he starred at her in surprise, and on impulse Zevran slung an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. The fact that she still trusted him... in all honesty, he was having difficulty processing that.  
  
"You are crazy, cariño," he grinned.  
  
And although Zevran couldn't be sure, he could have sworn he heard Solona mutter: "Only for you," under her breath.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**  
 **Medieval sword fighting terms:**  
 **Deflect – Actively change the incoming sword's speed or angle by hitting it with your own sword.**  
 **Empty Fade – Leaping backwards, but immediately leaping forwards again.**  
 **Lunge – Leaping forward whilst leaving feet in the same orientation.**  
 **Pivot – 180 degrees turn while keeping front foot stationary.**


	37. Bonds of Friendship (Amell PoV)

Cadoc's breath was hot against her bare legs, as he flung himself down beside her. The warm tickle made her squirm, forcing Solona to reposition herself in a more defensible positions. Namely moving to sit cross-legged, and pulling the fabric of the dark purple dress Leliana had thrust upon her, down over her legs. If she were to think about it, Solona could have sworn that the bard was using her as a doll to play dress up, not that she really minded, it was a luxury to wear something other than battle robes for a time. Well... anything that wasn't circle robes that was. A whimper from her side derailed Solona's wandering thoughts, and absent-mindedly, she scratched behind Cadoc's ears as the mabari lay his heavy head on her thigh.  
  
"Cariño."  
  
Solona started in surprise, and her assembled werelights scattered. She glanced up from the tome she'd been buried nose deep in, to be greeted by the sight of Zevran standing less than a foot away. To anyone else, nothing would seem out of the ordinary, however she could tell he was on edge. Perhaps it was the smile that didn't quite reach his amber eyes, or the subtle shift of his feet that gave away his ill ease. Though to Solona, most telling was the fact he was stood in front of her, rather than simply coming to sit beside her as he would normally do. Smiling, she purposefully looking up at him through her lashes, in the way she knew he appreciated.  
  
"Zev.”  
  
Snorting, Cadoc lumbered to his feet and padded inside her tent, and for a moment Zevran's smile did reach his stunning eyes. However it quickly vanished, as his eyes wandered from her face to her throat. Solona frowned, there wasn't a mark there, and any blood had long since been washed away... she was even wearing different clothes. Leliana's borrowed armour had be cleaned and returned with no one the wiser of the accident, and that's all it was... an accident. Solona wouldn't have given it another thought, if it wasn't for how pensive Zevran had been since returning to camp. Biting back a sigh, she closed her book and set it aside.  
  
"You okay?" she asked, cautiously.  
  
Instead of answering, Zevran presented her with a roll of burgundy cloth, which Solona accepted without hesitation. She was surprised when the feeling of rich velvet greeted her fingertips, but put more thought into intentionally brushing her fingers over Zevran's, as he withdrew his hand.   
  
“I... hope they are both to your satisfaction," he said, hesitantly.  
  
Without another word, he hastily retreated to the other side of the camp fire. Utterly confused, Solona set out the roll on the ground in front of her, and gently unwrapped the contents. The first came as no surprise... Duncan's beautiful dagger gleamed in the low light, polished so it shone like new. Zevran had asked if he could tend her weapons earlier, but Solona hadn't expected him to do it with such devotion. It _almost_ explained why they hadn't spoken at all since returning to camp. Though the evident care he had taken made her realise that this was an apology, a really meaningful one, if she were to hazard a guess. Smiling gently, Solona briefly cradled the cherished weapon carefully in her hands, admiring it before setting it on top of her discarded book. Expecting to see her other, less than pretty knife, Solona was amazed by what she saw. A stunning red steel dagger with a broad double edge blade, engraved spine and carved dragonbone handle. Several heartbeats past as she simply stared at the weapon. Whilst Duncan's dagger was impressive, this one was something else. On impulse, her eyes snapped up, and briefly she saw Zevran regarding her, until he quickly averted his eyes. Before Solona could ponder on the meaning of his look... and the weapon, soft footsteps heralded the arrival of another visitor. Stretching languidly, Solona gave Leliana an easy smile as the rogue came to sit beside her.   
  
"A Crow dagger? That is an exceptional blade," the bard remarked.  
  
"You recognise it?" .  
  
"I've seen one identical to it before," Leliana admitted, in her 'story-teller' voice. "Many years ago, Marjolaine and I were on a mission to silence an Orlesian minor noble, who was sowing seeds of dissent against the Empress. As it turned out, the Council of Heralds were not the only ones wanting the Baron's blood. A distant relative from Antiva had hired an assassin to rid the family of the 'nuisance'."  
  
"A Crow?" Solona guessed.  
  
"Exactly that," the bard agreed. "A pretty elf. Raven hair, olive skin, and the most amazing charcoal eyes that looked almost wild. She travelled with a rugged looking human who introduced himself as Nuncio, he was quite... intriguing."  
  
The description of the elf's eyes that caught Solona's attention. "Did you catch her name?"   
  
"I am not quiet sure,” Leliana replied. “The four of us decided to work together, that way none of us would walk away without payment, and it made dealing with the Baron's guards a lot more efficient. During the fight, I once heard Nuncio call her 'Ri', but that could simply be a nickname. No?"  
  
Solona discretely swallowed past the lump forming in her throat. "And she wielded a dagger like this?"  
  
"They could be twins," Leliana replied. "But why so many questions, ma chère?"  
  
Plastering on her most convincing grin, Solona chuckled. "I might not be a bard, but can't I invent a history for my new dagger?"  
  
"Such a blade does deserve a story, but it will not be as impressive as this one's," the bard stated, gesturing to Duncan's dagger. "How did you acquire this new blade?"  
  
Deciding it was pointless to lie, she simply shrugged. "Zevran. I guess he decided my second knife was below par. Which... he would have a point. Even Bodahn said it was a piece of scrap, and he sold it to me!"  
  
Chuckling, Leliana leant her head against Solona's. "He is quite a character, your Zevran."  
  
"What do you mean by that?" she asked, cautiously.  
  
"He seems to seek pleasure, above all things, but there is more to him. Isn't there?" the bard pressed. "He's more complex than he lets on."  
  
Solona idly traced her finger down the spine of the Crow dagger, before setting in down beside Duncan's. Her eyes couldn't help wandering over to where Zevran sat, and a smirk tugged at the side of her mouth.   
  
"Why so fascinated with Zev? Do I have competition?" she teased.  
  
"I feel it is my best interest to study those I travel with," Leliana defended. "And Zevran deserves special scrutiny, as you are my friend.  
  
"And he tried to kill me?" Solona goaded.  
  
The bard chuckled. "True, but it seems you trust him, judging by your closeness. If you do, then I do to. You haven't led us astray yet."  
  
Unexpected tears welled up in Solona's eyes. "Leli, _thank you_. After Wynne, and Alistair, that... means a lot."  
  
"Do not mention it," Leliana consoled, draping an arm around her shoulders. "Besides, you have good taste. He's an attractive one."  
  
Her friend's observation caused Solona to burst out laughing, earning confused stares from the rest of the camp. "Thanks. I rather like him myself."   
  
She grinned unabashed when she caught Zevran's eye. He returned her smile a little hesitantly, but he returned it none the less.  
  
"I can tell," Leliana giggled.  
  
"You've been smiling like that for weeks now," Morrigan said dryly, as she approached.  
  
"Have I?" Solona replied, innocently.  
  
"Indeed. Every time you and that rogue Zevran shoot glances at each other in fact," the witch stated, sitting down on her other side. "He has his charms, I'll give him that."  
  
Solona's eyes widened a little in surprise. "Why Morrigan, was that a compliment?"  
  
Truthfully, she was just happy the witch had sought them out. It was still rare for Morrigan to join them at camp, but she had a wicked sense of humour when she deigned to reveal it. The fact that the banter was distracting Solona's turbulent mind was a mere bonus.   
  
"Well, he certainly must be _quite_ something in bed, for you to risk so much in order to be close to him," her fellow mage retorted.  
  
"Yes, tell us, is he _very_ good in bed?" Leliana cajoled.  
  
"Oh, you have no idea!"   
  
Solona mimed fanning herself, before the three dissolved in a fit of barely controlled hysterics. Even Morrigan's eyes were watering with effort, by the time they had calmed themselves.   
  
"I see. Glad to hear it then," the witch smirked. "It is a bit sickening to watch you two, but I image it at least takes your mind from our situation."  
  
"And yet, you came to find out the gossip too," Leliana pointed out, waggling a finger.  
  
With a sigh, Morrigan rose to her feet. "Fine, have it your way. I'll just have to drink this by myself."  
  
Appearing from seemingly nowhere, the witch brandished a bottle of red wine.  
  
"All hail the Witch of the Wilds, and her excellent taste in alcohol," Solona chortled.  
  
She knew from experience that the wine would be of excellent vintage. For someone raised in the woods, Morrigan did have a unprecedented knack of choosing delicious drinks. Less surprising, was her skill at hiding the bottles.  
  
"I should think so," Morrigan said, deadpan. Before leading them to her personal camp fire.

* * *

**Author's Note** **  
'ma chère' is French for 'my dear', as I assume we all think Orlesian as French.**

 

 

 


	38. A Return Tp Normality (Zevran PoV)

Zevran hunkered down further in his mound of blankets. It had been three very surreal days, even by their standards... starting with him spilling Solona's blood, then his ill-advised idea to give her the dagger, followed by a detour that had them acquiring a walking, talking golem. One that called itself Shale, and had more of an attitude than Morrigan, which was rather impressive. It had also been three days of increasingly cold weather, made all the more noticeable as it had been three days since he had shared a bed with Solona. Really, it had been three days since they had even spoke, away from the necessities of battle and camp life. The first night had been the result of the warden spending time with Leliana and Morrigan, something Zevran did not begrudge her, even though it had made him extremely paranoid. The second had been taken up by Alistair, presumably discussing Grey Warden business, if the agonised look on her beautiful face had anything to go by. Zevran had debated going to her that night, but the fact they hadn't spoken since he gave her the dagger had given him pause. However, both Solona and Alistair had fallen asleep next to the camp fire, making any thoughts moot. Tonight was the third night, and he was once again alone. He had no idea where Solona was, or what she was doing. The last he had seen of the warden was when she was in deep conversation with the Shale, Bodahn and the dwarf's son Sandal. Presumably discussing the strange crystals they had found in Honnleath. Sighing, Zevran gingerly turned over. Shivering as he inadvertently moved a blanket, causing the cold air to blast past his defences. If he was less stubborn, he would have gone to her by now. If he was less of a coward, he wouldn't need to lie alone in bed, cold and wondering what she made of the dagger. Zevran wasn't worried if she was impressed by a gift or not, because it wasn't a gift, it was a simple necessity. If Solona was serious about wanting to duel wield, she needed a fine blade to accompany the one that had been Duncan's... _nothing_ more than that. The issue was, that the only suitable blade that were not either of his own weapons, had been one he'd carried with him for years. One that had been kept as a reminder and as remembrance. One that had once been Rinna's.

“Zev?”

He almost jumped in surprise at the sound of Solona's voice, and forced some joviality into his voice as he replied: “Mi querida, what a surprise.”

“Can I come in?” Solona asked, popping her head into his tent, a singular werelight accompanying her. “It's freezing out here.”

“But of course,” he replied, without hesitation.

Zevran opened up the blankets for her as soon as she scurried inside, and an unexpected smirk tugged at his mouth as he regarded her. Red hair blown askew by the frigid wind; falling in front of her face, cheeks pink from the cold, and her shapely legs bare. Because all she wore was a loose fitting white shirt, that upon closer inspection in the dim light, Zevran realised it was his shirt... one he thought he'd left behind in the Brecilian Forest. He rubbed the thin cotton between his fingers, even as Solona buried herself in his pile of blankets, before snuggling closer to him.

“No wonder you are cold,” he teased.

“What else am I going to wear, especially when my bed-warmer has aparently quit?” she shot back.

“I am sorry Cadoc has abandoned you in your time of need, Cariño,” Zevran quipped, chuckling. “I presume he is trying to get into our future king's good graces. Allow me to be your poor but faithful substitute.”

Solona sighed: “Impossible elf.”

“Indomitable woman,” he retorted, grinning.

She raised her eyebrow, a smile playing on her own inviting lips. “How is that an insult?”

“It is not,” Zevran agreed.

Rolling her eyes, Solona lightly kissing his lips. “Thank you, for the dagger, it's beautiful, I've never seen it's like before. Is it a Crow Dagger?”

Zevran's heart pounded in his chest. “Yes,” he managed to reply. “A... modified one.”

A small smile played on Solona's lips as she regarded him. “Thank you. It was very sweet of you, to take the hassle out of finding a new blade for me.”

Immediately, Zevran felt himself relax. Even though there was a questioning tone to her voice, he knew the warden wasn't going to press for an explanation, or enquire of his motivation. Maybe she already knew or understood? Zevran wasn't sure, but he was grateful for her acceptance none the less.

“But of course,” he chuckled. “A Grey Warden cannot go around wielding substandard equipment. Lest of all a piece of basura, like that old blade even Bodahn didn't want you to have.”

“Well, if I'm going to trust anyone to chose a dagger for me, it would have to be my handsome and charismatic former Crow” Solona replied, settling her head on his chest. “So tell me, do you actually enjoy being an assassin?”

“And why not? There are many things to enjoy about being a Crow in Antiva. You are respected, you are feared, the authorities go out of their way to overlook your trespasses. Even the rewards are nothing to turn your nose up at,” he explained, gently carding a hand through her tangled tresses. “As for the killing part, well... some people simply need assassinating. Or do you disagree?”

He could feel her smile against his skin before she replied. “You've never killed an innocent?”

A sigh escaped him, as he kissed her forehead. “Now there's an interesting word, innocent. How many men do you know that can claim to be truly innocent? But if you're talking generalities, such as children, relatives, bystanders and such... never on purpose. But it happens,” he admitted. “It's unfortunate, but death comes to us all. If not me, then some wasting disease, or a fall down the stairs, or at the hands of a darkspawn. It's all relative in the end.”

“I suppose that is true,” Solona agreed, thoughtfully. “Though hopefully you don't drop many trees on them.”

There was a hint of teasing in her voice, that made Zevran think she would never let him live that down.

“Only the very special ones,” he retorted, smiling as she kissed the underside of his jaw. “Death happens, as we like to say. And when I get paid for it, death happens more often. As far as enjoying the act of killing, why not? There is a certain artistry to the deed. The pleasure of sinking your blade into their flesh, and knowing that their life is in your hands.”

At this, Solona propped herself up on her elbows, and looked at him intently. “I take no pleasure in killing.”

“It is not pleasure, per say, nothing sexual,” Zevran defended, eliciting an amused roll of the eyes from his companion. “It is more a sense of satisfaction, a feeling of power. Does that make sense?”  
  
A raised eyebrow is all he got in response.   
  
“No matter. There are many things I did not enjoy about being a Crow, of course. Having no choice, being treated as an expendable commodity...” Zevran realised that he was getting a little to close to serious with his last admission, so added: “And the rules! Oh so many rules. But, being an assassin, I like it just fine. I will continue to do it, if I can, even if I am not a Crow. Honestly, could you picture me doing something else?”

For a moment, Solona starred at him with an odd look on her face, before she burst out laughing. “Maker! You really want me to answer that? A handsome man like you? I can think of a few things.”

She leant up to kiss his ear, making him shudder. He couldn't help but laugh, even as he rolled her over onto her back.

“I meant professionally,” he chuckled, as he braced himself above her. “Or maybe you mean professionally as well? Perhaps you plan to peddle my services to bored, Fereldan noble women. It is an interesting thought, but I've always removed my clothes strictly on an amateur basis.”

“There's nothing amateur about you,” Solona teased, looking up at him through her lashes. “And I must admit, I'm not sure I would be willing to share with bored, noble women. Besides, I don't think they would be able to truly appreciate your mastery.”

The thought that the warden wouldn't want to share him, made Zevran happier than he would have expected. And as her eyes lowered, he could well imagine her gaze raking over his body that was poised just above hers. Most likely settling on the part that was making it _very_ clear he was happy to have her back in his bed.

“You are rather talented yourself, cariño,” he complimented, tilting her head so he could capture her lips. “Though perhaps there are still a few things I could teach you.”


	39. A Winter's Tale (Amell PoV)

fTry as she might, no matter how far she buried her face into the fur lined collar of her cloak, or how tightly she clasped the edges of her oversized hood, the merciless cold still managed to attack. The skin of Solona's face stung with the bitter chill, her fingers and toes were numb, despite being encased by fleece lined gloves and boots. Even her magic couldn't help warm her now, as she trudged up the steep mountain path, trying not to curse too loudly every time she sunk into knee high drifts of frigid snow. The terrain had become so difficult, that even Sandal and Cadoc had stopped enjoying the wintry landscape. The wind howled viscously around them.  
  
"And whose idea was it to come this way?" Morrigan demanded, her voice barely audible.  
  
"Alistair!" Solona and Leliana both shouted in unison.  
  
"This is the only accessible path to Orzammar," the ex-Templar defended. "How could I know there would be a snow storm the day before we arrived?"  
  
"One could simply look at the sky," Shale stated, dryly.  
  
Or at least, it seemed to Solona that the golem was being sarcastic... it was a little hard to tell. However, she could have sworn that Sten had almost cracked a smile, though the high collar of his cloak made it difficult to be sure. Though any thoughts of trying to elicit a further reaction from the Qunari were quickly quashed, as the next gust of wind buffeted so hard, that Solona was nearly blown off her feet. She collided with Zevran, and there was an evident smirk in his eyes... his face muffled by his cloak... as he helped steady her. Smiling into her collar, Solona linked her arm through his, and the two walked huddled together as they continued up the winding incline.   
  
"Tell me more about your adventures," she implored, still having to raise her voice above the gale, despite how close they were.  
  
"Again?" Zevran chuckled. "Well now, what might interest you I wonder? Shall I describe the stages involved in lanthrax poisoning? I watched a man go through all seven once."  
  
"That sounds fun," she teased, not exactly sure if he was joking or not. "But sure, if you like then certainly. It has to beat counting the minutes until my fingers fall off anyway."  
  
Zevran gave a snort of amusement. "No... I'll not inflict that upon you, just yet." He was silent for a moment, then gave a slight nod, evidently having made up his mind. "Let's see, how about the largest battle I ever took part in?"  
  
"And I bet you were roguishly handsome throughout," Solona quipped, burying her face into his shoulder as another violent gust swept down the path. "So what caused this battle?"  
  
"My dear Grey Warden, I am beginning to wonder if you are becoming bias," Zevran replied, pushing a tangle of blonde locks out of his face. "Though, to answer your question, the cause of the battle would have been the slaughter of Prince Asrin. Did you hear about that, down in these parts?"  
  
"You killed a prince?" she gasped, oddly impressed as morbid as it was. "And I'm not sure... remember," she said, pointing at herself. "Locked up in a tower nearly all my life. It's not like the Templars keep us mages up to date."

Just thinking about the tower, made her wonder how Cullen was, and if her letter had reached him or not. A frown briefly flitted across Zevran's handsome face, as it often did when she mentioned the tower, before he squeezed her hand that was resting in the crook of his elbow. Solona's eyes briefly flitted to him, before she found herself knee deep in snow again. Zevran snorted, and she glared at his, just daring him to actually comment on her predicament. Even though he kept quiet, his amber eyes still shone with amusement, whilst he helped Solona extricate herself from the drift. Without a word, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her in close to his side, as they continued to walk.

"Prince Asrin was fourth in line to the throne you see,” Zevran explained. “He started off at eleventh but worked his way up by the old fashion method."  
  
"And that would be...?" she asked.  
  
"Inheriting control of an entire Crow cell from his grandfather," he continued. "After assassinating his way through the royal family, the king hired three other cells to take down Prince Asrin, once and for all. I was in one of those cells.”  
  
"Is this sort of thing common in Antivan?" she asked, genuinely curious.  
  
"Antivan royalty is very much bound up in the Crows. You wouldn't want it run by a bunch of commoners after all," he said, rolling his eyes for affect. "This means, they get involved in politics quite often. This particular fight nearly bankrupted the nation, I understand. It also nearly ended putting a Crow on the throne, a commoner. But that's a whole different story...”  
  
"So what did you do?"  
  
"I played a very small role, but my part in the entire battle was taken up trying to reach Princess Ferenna," Zevran explained. "Who had thrown in with her brother. I killed about eleven of her guards, personally, before I got knocked out of a window."  
  
Unable to help herself, Solona burst out laughing, earning her an annoyed look from Wynne, and a bewildered look from Alistair.

"That's not how I expected it to end when you mentioned a princess," she confessed, giving Zevran a brief squeeze in apology.  
  
"You were expecting some sordid tale of seduction?" he chuckled, returning her one armed hug. "Alas, that did not happen. I landed in a river, and nearly drowned. I was fished out by some urchins, who robbed me blind, and made off with my boots too," he lamented. "But at least they didn't cut my throat," he added, shrugging. "And _that_ was my part in history."  
  
Despite biting back another inappropriate laugh, Solona's mind had grabbed hold of the detail of the boots. Several times Zevran had mentioned Antivan leather boots, and it gave her an idea. However, there was nothing she could do about it now, so instead she asked:   
  
"You got robbed? By street urchins?"  
  
Zevran narrowed his eyes, in what she knew was a mock scowl. "Hmm... I had to make my way back to the safe house bruised and naked, and thankful to be alive. But there you go, tale told. Now perhaps we can find shelter before I tell anymore embarrassing stories?"  
  
Stopping in the slight shelter of an evergreen tree, Solona surveyed their surroundings. The sun was already beginning to disappear behind one of the other mountain peaks, though very few shadows were being cast by the weak light. It seems that Sten had noticed her intent, for he stepped up beside her, gesturing slightly up the path and to the right. Pointing out an outcrop that seemed to form a large, and seemingly natural, alcove in the mountain face.  
  
"The way the rocks are formed should give us shelter," the Qunari advised.  
  
"Good location," Bodahn called in agreement. "Me and my boy camped there when we left Orzammar."   
  
And with the dwarf's endorsement the deciding factor, the group went about setting up a rough camp. Well... all but Sandal and Cadoc, who resumed their game of chase, now that the wind had abated. The pair only managed to cause the minimum amount of mayhem in their wake.

 


	40. A Bottle of Brandy (Zevran PoV)

After taking a large swig of warming Antivan Brandy, Zevran hopped up onto the crumbling stone wall, and settled himself next to Bodahn, offering the small bottle to the dwarf as he did so. Silently, the merchant took the offered brandy, though only took a small sip before handing it back. There was a distant look in the dwarf's eyes, as he regarded Sandal running around after Cadoc. It was a look that Zevran hadn't seen on Bodahn before, tense and almost forlorn. The expression was all the more unusual, for the merchant was usually one of their more genial travelling companions. Usually, Solona would be the first to realise something was wrong with one of the group... she'd patiently sit and talk to whoever was having a problem, and without fail, would somehow manage to make them feel better. Zevran should know, the fiery mage had managed to pull that feat of compassion on him countless times already. However, Solona was off with Alistair, trying to wrangle them all access in to Orzammar, despite the city currently being closed to outsiders. And for some reason he couldn't quite explain, Zevran felt it was his duty to take Solona's place and attempt to cheer up their companion.  
  
"So amigo, what is your story?" he asked, trying not to shiver.  
  
For a moment, Bodahn looked confused before simply shrugging. "Well, if you're really interested, I suppose it won't hurt to tell you."   
  
"Only if you are sure," Zevran said cautiously, already feeling out of his depth.  
  
Bodahn's gaze came to rest on the opposing, coal black doors, that hid the dwarven city from the rest of the world. "I am originally from Orzammar, I was a merchant there too. Merchant caste... these things are in the blood, you know. You can't just leave them behind."

There was a sadness to Bodahn's tone that made Zevran pass him the bottle of brandy again.

"I ran a fairly successful business," the merchant continued. "Rare artefacts, you know; old things, grand things... the nobles loved them. Reminded them of the lost glory days, I suppose."  
  
Zevran snorted. "It would seem nobles are the same everywhere, no?"  
  
"That they are," Bodahn agreed. "One day a noblewoman came to my store, she looked around for a bit and then started shrieking in dismay. Apparently, she believed that a pair of bracers I had for sale once belonged to her brother. He'd been lost in a cave in, you see, while on expedition to clear out the darkspawn from one of the tunnels running close to the city. 'They were made especially for him. They're unique!' she shrieked. 'He stole them from my poor brother's corpse!' She had me arrested on the spot, of course."  
  
Smiling wryly, Zevran nodded his head in understanding. "Ah nobles, they are touchy like that. So, did you steal them?"   
  
"Well _I_ didn't steal them," Bodahn defended, sighing. "You see, I had been paying these casteless thugs to venture out into the Deep Roads for me. The lost thaigs, they are full of things people left behind. Sometime you find treasure... something worth a little gold."   
  
"Better to do something with them, than leave them to rot," Zevran shrugged in reply.  
  
"That's exactly how I see it," the dwarf stated, giving him a grateful look. "The noblewoman, she didn't like the... 'theft' of her brother's bracers. I don't know what they planned for me, and I didn't want to find out. I bribed the guard that was watching me, collected my boy, and took off for the surface first opportunity I got. Never looked back."  
  
Grinning with admiration, Zevran clapped a hand on Bodahn's shoulder. "A shrewd move, mi amigo. Though my interest is piqued... where _do_ you get your goods from now?"  
  
The dwarf's shoulder's tensed for a moment, before falling almost in defeat. "Look, we... we don't rob people, all right? We don't take things from people who need them. The things in the lost thaigs... what good did they do lying there? I brought them back to Orzammar where people could look at them and remember. It's not all that different up here. There are places long-abandoned by the humans everywhere, even more now, with the darkspawn coming.  
  
"You opportunistic scoundrel," Zevran laughed, handing over the bottle again. "Savvy, and it's better than having the darkspawn take it all, no?"  
  
"That's what I tell myself too," Bodahn agreed, seeming to relax. "These are dark times indeed. Dark times, my friend."  
  
"But is good to be among friends, is it not?" Zevran gestured vaguely in the direction of the warden. "I do not judge you, and neither does our dear Grey Warden. Though I suppose it is prudent to maximise opportunities when they arise," he added, as he noticed Leliana approaching them. "It is a shame you will not be joining us in Orzammar, but you are most likely right. Trade relations with these surface merchants will be more lucrative than any to be had in such an insular society."  
  
The merchant looked visibly relieved at being given such a sound excuse, and smiled broadly as he handed back the bottle of brandy. "That is the way of business," Bodahn agreed, politely bowing to Leliana as he got down from his perch and went to round up his son.  
  
"And what was that about?" the rouge asked, smirking slightly as she leant on the wall next to Zevran.  
  
"Just discussing the nuances of business, mi ceilo," he replied, once again handing over the severely depleted bottle.

* * *

** Author's Note  
** **First up, 'mi ceilo' translates as 'my sweet' in Spanish. And, of course, 'mi amigo' is 'my friend'.**

 


	41. One More Night (Amell PoV)

With a heavy sigh, Solona sat down on the uncomfortable stone chair and rested her forehead against Zevran's shoulder, not caring what anyone thought. Honestly, she was mere seconds away from slamming her head against the granite table, the day had been such a nightmare. One that started with a fight with some of Loghain's men outside the doors to the city, went on to encompass reuniting a dwarf named Zerlinda and her infant son with her parents, recovering a stolen tome for the Shaperate, and in return, convincing the Shaperate to allow an Andrastian convert to open a tiny chantry. There had been a fight through the Carta hideout and competing, along with winning, a Proving tournament in the arena. And if that hadn't been enough, it had even involved a spot of lost nug wrangling too, for Maker's sake!  
  
"And what is to be your next trick, my dear Grey Warden?" Zevran drawled, subtly squeezing her thigh.  
  
"Get that ass; Bhelen, crowned king," Solona stated, wearily. “If only for his stance on the casteless and tries to the surface.”   
  
"Followed by exacting revenge on Loghain and defeating the blight," Alistair added, cheerfully.

As he spoke, he banged down a brimming mug of what appeared to be ale in front of her. After giving the brownish liquid a dubious sniff, Solona shrugged, before downing the drink. Her lips curled with distastes, and it was hard for her to repress a shudder as she sent the mug back down. She hoped against hope, that wasn't the best that Tapster's had to offer.   
  
"That was truly revolting," she announced. "So... we need to plan for our expedition tomorrow."  
  
"Deciding who you wish to accompany you, would be most prudent," Morrigan stated. "It would be wise to leave some of us behind, in case a search party is required."  
  
"And a time frame will be needed," Leliana added. "To know when a rescue should be mounted."  
  
One quick glance at Alistair let Solona know that she was, once again, fully in charge of this.  
  
"Alright," she agreed. "That can be decided once we've talked to the guards by the entrance to the Deep Roads. Other than that... Zevran, Alistair, Morrigan, I want you to join me on the expedition. We will also take Shale with us. I'm sure she doesn't want to spend weeks standing around the Hall of Heroes, after only just regaining the ability to move."

Solona felt Zevran lightly squeeze her thigh again, and this time she was not sure what it was for. As thanks, perhaps?

"Leli, I want you to keep an eye on Bhelen and Harrowmont," Solona continued. "I don't want those two killing each other whilst we are in the Deep Roads."  
  
"Of course," Leliana smiled. "Would you like me to check on Cadoc too?"  
  
A faint smile pulled at Solona's mouth, she was already missing her mabari, but it was much better for the war hound to wait for them on the surface with Bodahn and Sandal, than spending miserable weeks trapped under ground.   
  
"I was actually hoping Sten wouldn't be adverse to that? As I'd like you to keep an eye on our two dwarves, I'm worried about them," she admitted.   
  
Solona doubted the Qunari would disagree, and not only because he would see it as an order. She knew he had a terrible soft spot for Cadoc, almost as large as his soft spot for chocolate chip cookies. Two things the behemoth would never admit to, along with his secret love of art, that only she and Morrigan knew about.  
  
Sten eyed her critically, before nodding. "Agreed."  
  
Biting the inside of her cheek to conceal a smile the Qunari would not appreciate, Solona turned her attention to the last member of their group. "Wynne, after the poisoning of Lady Broden, I want to make sure a repeat can be quickly dealt with, should it happen. Work with Widron, and also see if he has any useful recipes we can use. Learn anything available, so you can pass it on to Morrigan and myself when we return."   
  
She sat back, waiting for a reply from the older mage. Things still remained frosty between them since the Bracilian Forest, and Solona felt her explanation was a lot better than: 'I don't want you and your disapproving stare following me around the Deep Roads'. Zevran also sat back in his chair, removing his hand from Solona's thigh and draping his arm about her shoulders. Wynne's right eye visibly twitched.

"As you wish," the elder mage replied, coolly.  
  
"So, provisions?" Alistair asked, tactful for once.  
  
"No ale," Solona decreed, smiling.

She was backed by hummed agreement from both Zevran and Morrigan, who sat with barely touched mugs in front of them.  
  
"Figor's Imports may be the most promising store in Orzammar itself, though I suggest we check with the surface merchants as well," Leliana advised. "Bodahn would also be a good source of information for the provisions you will need, no?"  
  
"Good idea," she smiled, raising to stand. "And I don't know about you three..." she gave a pointed look to Zevran, Morrigan and Alistair in turn. "But I really want one more night out in the open before venturing into the Deep Roads, even if it is stupidly cold out there."  
  
"I am sure I can find a way to warm you up, cariño," Zevran smirked.

Unabashed, he slipped an arm around her waist as they stood. Solona rolled her eyes in response, but didn't bother to hide her smile. The majority of their companions merely chuckled at the banter, with even Sten almost smiling. The Qunari was certainly frowning less, at any rate. However, unsurprisingly, Wynne shook her head at them and muttering: "Unprofessional" and "Inappropriate", before the elder mage swept past them and exited the tavern. Trying not to smirk, Solona snaked her arm around Zevran's waist to return his gesture, and they followed Wynne out of Tapster's.  
  
"Do you have to antagonise her?" she asked.  
  
Before he could reply, Morrigan was walking beside them. "The old crone's disapproval is her own problem. Do not trouble yourselves with trying to adhere to her high and mighty view point."  
  
"As much as I hate to admit it," Alistair started, as he fell in beside Zevran. "I have to agree with Morrigan."  
  
Coming to an abrupt halt, one that caused Zevran to bump into her, Solona peered over the nearby railing. Gazing resolutely at the flowing river of lava that ran underneath the city, she pointedly ignored the confused looks that her companions were giving her.  
  
"What are you doing, mi querida?" Zevran asked, sounding both amused and slightly perplexed.  
  
"Just checking the lava hasn't frozen over," she quipped. "Since I never thought I'd see the day those two agreed on something."

Laughing, Solona disentangled herself from Zevran, and deftly dodged a flick of ice that Morrigan sent her way.  
  
"Friend though you may be, do not think I would not turn into a Flying Swarm and attack you," the witch warned, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

 


	42. Conversations and Realisations (Zevran's PoV)

An air of tension surrounded their small party... mainly generated by the two Grey Wardens, and only grew thicker as they made their way through the Hall of Heroes. There was something Solona was not telling him, something Alistair also knew... Zevran was sure of it. There were glances shared between the pair whenever they thought no-one was looking, and a guarded look in their eyes whenever the Deep Roads were mentioned. It convinced Zevran there was something more troubling about the Deep Roads for the wardens, than just the darkspawn. Though no matter how much he wanted to know, Solona had always respected his privacy, had never pried into topics he found difficult, so he vowed to do the same. To Zevran's surprise, Morrigan walked beside him, but her unnatural yellow eyes never wavering from Solona's back, as the two wardens walked ahead of them.  
  
"She will speak of it, when it is time," the witch stated, unexpectedly. "Whatever she is keeping, I expect it is a warden matter. She will seek council, if and when it is needed."  
  
Zevran raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps you are right.”  
  
"Naturally," Morrigan scoffed. "And I must say, it is wily of you, Zevran."  
  
"What is so wily of me, oh magical temptress?" he asked, hiding his wariness behind playful banter.  
  
"Getting in the good graces of the one who decides whether you live or die. Not to mention the one who can protect you against your former comrades," the witch replied, rather icily.  
  
"And I am supposed to believe you are here because of a... sense of patriotism, perhaps?" he retorted.  
  
For a moment, Morrigan looked repulsed. "Ha! Hardly that."  
  
A smirk tugged at Zevran's lips. "We all have our reasons for doing what we do. Mine happens to come with a set of lovely eyes."   
  
His admission seemed to answer whatever question the witch had sought answers to, for Morrigan merely nodding before _almost_ giving a smile, and quickening her pace to catch up with the wardens. If Zevran hadn't known better, he could have sworn the witch was actually concerned about Solona... perhaps she was, but he wasn't left alone to ponder long. Mere seconds later, lumbering footsteps heralded Shale's approach.  
  
"I have noticed that the painted elf seeks the attention of the Grey Warden," the golem proclaimed.  
  
Zevran smirk grew wider upon hearing Shale's description of him, he rather liked it. "He certainly does.”  
  
"I watched many such couplings during the time I spent immobile in Honnleath," Shale practically sneered. "Or should I say, forced to watch. You do know that this usually ends in reproduction. I've seen it, many times indeed."  
  
For reasons beyond his comprehension, the thought was not a terrifying prospect. Which should have been frightened, in and of it's own right. Not so long ago, Zevran would have bolted at the suggestion... or slit the throat of whoever had said it.

"Oh? That is not such a terrible thought," he admitted, rather surprised at his own words, though added: "Creating new life can be a great deal of fun.”  
  
"So you say. I have no idea how a golem is created, but I doubt I shall be creating one anytime soon,” Shale replied.  
  
“Just as well, I imagine," Zevran stated, slowly. "Any lover of yours would no doubt be quickly reduced to a puddle of bruises."  
  
"So you see me winning the affection of another golem, do you?" Shale questioned. "Most golems are slaves to whoever holds their control rod."  
  
"Funny, it works exactly the same way for us as well," he replied, deadpan.   
  
He was unsure if Shale realised her innuendo, or even if golems thought in that manner, but Zevran still valiantly fought the urge to outright laugh. But of course, Solona chose that moment to glance over her shoulder and gave him a wink, serving to finally draw out a chuckle from him. Shale seemed ignorant to the interaction, or perhaps she was too busy ignoring a dwarf who was gwaking at the golem, as they waiting outside Figor's Imports... where Solona, Alistair and Morrigan had just disappeared into.  
  
"I am curious," Shale said at length. "Will the painted elf answer a question?"  
  
"Why not?" he shrugged. "We appear to have all day.”  
  
"The painted elf attacked the Grey Warden, and yet still lives. Had the decision been mine, it's skull would be so much pulp right now."  
  
It wasn't so much a question as it was a statement, though Zevran could guess what the golem meant. "Oh, I don't know. Could you destroy something as pretty as I am, hmm?"   
  
"Easily," Shale replied. "I fail to see how any measure of attractiveness would make one difficult to crush."  
  
Once again, Zevran was unsure if the golem was goading him or not. "Perhaps you do not know how to look then," he suggested. "Take our Grey Warden, my good friend, right there we have an object worthy of worship, no?"   
  
Though the words were said in a jovial manner, Zevran couldn't deny to himself he meant that in more than just a sexual context. _'Estoy en problemas!'_ he thought to himself, partially relieved and partially anxious when their three companions exited the store.   
  
"Or take the Templar fellow," he added, to hide his discomfort. "Rugged good looks, quick wit manly shoulders. Just getting him to hop borders is a challenge worthy of the great heroes."  
  
"Hmm? Challenge?" Alistair mumbled, seeming to only just become aware of the conversation. "I'd happily hop borders, given the chance. I've never even been close to leaving Ferelden!"   
  
At the Templar's words, both Solona's and Morrigan's eyes widened, before the two woman exchanged glances. Though where the warden merely smirked, evidently holding in a chuckle, the witch laughed outright.  
  
"What? Chantry life, then the wardens have given me little opportunity," Alistair defended, trailing after Morrigan as she walked away, still cackling.   
  
"Squishy creatures," Shale grumbled, following them.  
  
Raising an eyebrow, Zevran regarded Solona as she walked towards him, stopping only once she was well within his personal space. Without touching him, she leant forward, tilting her head to whisper in his ear:

"If I'm not sharing you with Ferelden noblewoman, don't think I'm sharing you with the future king. Even if he is my brother... or maybe that's the problem."   
  
Lightly, she brushed her lips across his as she withdrew, pausing her retreat just outside his reach. Chuckling, Zevran pushed himself off the wall. Brushing his hand subtly against hers, as they made their way to join the rest of their group.   
  
"Ah, so some other strapping fellow would be more appealing to you, no?" he teased. "Or perhaps you may feel more adventurous, with a diversion from your normal tastes?"   
  
Despite the prospect being nothing new for him, Zevran doubted the idea had ever crossed Solona's mind before. So he was completely surprised by the devilish smile she gave him in response.  
  
"Perhaps," she winked, before quickening her pace to join the others.

* * *

 

** Author's Note  
** **'Estoy en problemas!' means 'I'm in trouble' in Spanish.**

 

 


	43. What's One More Lunatic? (Amell PoV)

Solona was rather enjoying the look of intrigue, amusement and just a little bit of lust, that Zevran was giving her after her last comment, that it came as some surprised when a malodorous, red bearded dwarf suddenly stepped into their path. He stood like a boulder blocking their way, and regarded the five of them with bleary eyes, as he swayed slightly on his feet. As he spoke in a gravelly voice, the stench of dwarven ale was so prevalent, that Solona had to take a step back. Glancing at her companions, Solona was somewhat relieved that she wasn't the only one that had recoiled. Zevran's hand on the small of her back was a little comfort.  
  
"Stranger!” the dwarf slurred. “Have you seen a Grey Warden hereabouts? I understand that he... or was it she... you understand this was many mugs ago, was searching for Branka on Prince Bhelen's own command."  
  
Zevran whispered in her ear: "It is refreshing he admits this, no?"  
  
“What does this warden look like?" she asked the dwarf, glibly.   
  
"Stout and muscular," he replied, swaying side to side. "Fair of face, but with a strong jaw and a bold nose. Surrounded by a great glowing nimbus."

The dwarf's gaze seemed to drift towards Alistair for a moment, his blurry eyes narrowing. Zevran snorted.  
  
"He does describe our dear Templar so well, does he not. Or do you disagree?" he muttered.  
  
Before Solona could reply, the dwarf was focusing... though that was really too kind a word... his attention back on her.   
  
"If she's a woman, she might be more slight, but her eyes will shine with the light of purity and her large but chaste bosom will heave magnificently," he stated, drunkenly looking her up and down.  
  
Solona braced herself for some witty retort from Zevran, but instead, she felt his hand discretely brush down the length of her arm. The soft leather of his gloves was pleasant against her skin, and daring to risk glancing over her shoulder, she found Zevran regarding her with open affection, that well and truly eclipsed the realms of desire. It was surprising to see and sent butterflies flitting around her stomach. The moment could have almost been romantic, up until the dwarf gave a loud, repugnant belch.  
  
"I've been looking for hours, but I haven't seen anyone who looks like that. Very frustrating," the dwarf complained.  
  
"Then he is blind," Zevran murmured.  
  
Solona spared him a small smile, before turning her attention to the dwarf. "You may want to look right here," she stated, gesturing between herself and Alistair.  
  
The drunk took a step back, eyeing them both critically, before shaking his head. "Well, if you're the best they've got, then standards must have fallen way down."  
  
Solona physically felt Zevran tense behind her, and managed to position herself so that her body was discretely touching the length of his, halting any reaction. Shale gave a bark of laughter, as Alistair spluttered indignantly. Morrigan caught Solona's eye, the witch trying to hide her grin behind her hand, though amusement danced in her yellow eyes. The insult was worth it, just to see her friend's cold demeanour slip for once.  
  
"Though I suppose that would account for an elf being down here," the dwarf stated.   
  
His gaze fixed on Zevran, and it was Solona's turn to tense, ready to defend her lover from any racial slur that might be hurled his way. Though thankfully that never came. Instead the drunk looked between her and Zevran, perhaps noticing their postures through his inebriated stupor, and merely raised an eyebrow. Though instead of a question, the gesture came off quite lecherous.  
  
"Say, could I ask you a favour?" the dwarf continued, still slightly swaying side to side.  
  
Her own eyebrow raised on it's own accord. "That's how you butter someone up to ask them for help?"   
  
The dwarf chuckled. "Name's Oghren, and if you ever heard of me before, it's probably all been about how I piss ale and kill little boys who look at me wrong."  
  
"An interesting introduction," Zevran observed, a smirk evident in his voice.  
  
Oghren laughed. "It's mostly true. But the part they never say is how I'm the only one still trying to save our only Paragon. And if you're looking for Branka, I'm the only one who knows what she was looking for. Which might be sodding helpful in finding her."  
  
Solona appraised the stocky dwarf. Fully taking in his obviously drunk state, his unruly red hair and braided beard. Despite his stupor, he worn heavy plate armour with a great battleaxe strapped to his back. Honestly, she was surprised he hadn't simply fallen over from the combination of weight and inebriation. It was quite an impressive feet that he was still vertical at all. She couldn't help but smirk.  
  
"If you know this, why haven't you gone after her yourself?" Alistair questioned, tersely.  
  
The scowl Oghren levelled at the Templar was actually fairly intimidation, even with the unstable swaying factored in. "Believe me, I have. But where she's going, it's a lost thaig. No one's seen it in centuries. I searched as far as I could, but..."

He broke off, a look of melancholy briefly flashing in his grey eyes, before he shook his head.

"It would take teams of warriors searching weeks on end to cover enough ground to hope to find it. Which, I assume, is just what Bhelen's men have done. And they shared what they found with you. But they haven't found Branka herself, and that means whatever they've got, it's not enough if you don't know what she was looking for." Oghren had grown oddly coherent and decidedly less drunk acting as he spoke. "If we pool our knowledge, we stand a better chance of finding Branka. Otherwise, good sodding luck."  
  
Solona's smirk had morphed into a full smile by this point. It was beyond obvious to her, that this Oghren was deeply invested in finding the paragon, and most likely it wasn't for the same reason every other dwarf wanted her found. The way he looked when speaking Branka's name, it was obvious she was someone dear to him. And drunkard or not, it was no small feet to remain upright with so much heavy armour and weaponry weighing him down. She hadn't been able to garner much knowledge of the world outside the tower whilst she had travelled with Duncan, but Solona did remember his lecture about the dwarves. And if his tales were to be believed, this Oghren was obviously Warrior Caste, which meant he'd be handy in a fight.  
  
"Sounds like we have a deal," she grinned, crossing her arms over her chest. "You have a half hour to gather supplies."  
  
"No need," the dwarf stated, disappearing around the corner he'd previously emerged from.  
  
"Solona? Are... are you certain that's a good idea?" Alistair asked, frowning.  
  
"Why? Do you think I have enough armed lunatics following me already?" she retorted, her tone sickly sweet.  
  
At that moment, Oghren returned with a heavy looking pack slung over one shoulder. "What's one more?" he chuckled darkly.  
  
"'Tis true, one more dangerous follower will hardly upset the balance," Morrigan stated in her usually haughty manner, but the wicked gleam in her yellow eyes told Solona the witch was enjoying seeing the Templar squirm.

 


	44. Humbling Words (Zevran PoV)

The bleak tunnel was only illuminated by the luminous orange glow of the ever present lava. The sound of water slowly seeping through the cracks in the rocks was the only sound, save for the crackling of the fire they had set up... It was only a small cooking fire, required only to heat up some of the basic soup of mushrooms and dried meat, that Morrigan had created the day before. Hot, liquid magma flowed along the same contours as the centuries old, stone pathway did. Even to Zevran, there was something poignant about traipsing through the ruins of a once magnificent empire. The sombre atmosphere was even being to affect him, along with the moods of his companions, and Solona's radiant smile had made less of an appearance, the deeper they traversed. Now, a week into their exploration, her smile only graced her lips in the quiet moments when they lay together, entwined in each others' arms. Zevran was pulled from his musings, as Oghren flopped himself down in front of the camp fire, and Alistair eyed the dwarf warily.   
  
"All right, I guess you aren't all that bad,” Oghren declared.   
  
Zevran chuckled, quietly. "You just decided that, did you?"  
  
The dwarf shrugged. "Well, I've watched you fight. You could be worse."  
  
He laughed outright at that, earning him a raised eyebrow from Solona who stood a few feet away, studying the pattern on the tunnel wall by werelight.   
  
"From you, that's practically a proposal of marriage," he teased.  
  
Oghren threw him what could be seen as a filthy look... then again, the dwarf could, quite as easily, be going crossed eyes from the copious amount of ale he'd quaffed already that day.

"Don't get excited or nothin'. You're not what I'm looking for in a wife." The dwarf's gaze shifted unceremonious to Solona, who had turned back to studying the wall. "And it figures she'd go for an elf.”  
  
"She who?" Zevran asked, nonchalantly.   
  
If he were to be honest, he had been expecting more animosity than what he had faced so far, regarding his relationship with Solona. The last person who had actually voice an objection had been Wynne, back in the Bracilian Forest. So it seemed to Zevran like he was due some grief, since things had been going mostly smoothly for him and Solona, after all.  
  
The dwarf snorted. "You and the warden. We all know what's going on there."  
  
"Oh? Does that make you jealous, my stout little friend?" he replied, glibly. If this conversation was going to happen, he at least intended to have fun with it.  
  
"Me? Ha! Last thing I need is another woman in my life," Oghren chuckled, before taking a hearty swig out of his flask.  
  
"One wife enough for you, is she?"  
  
The dwarf seemed to mull over his words. That, or he was trying not to belch... Zevran wasn't sure, but the look on Oghren's face was amusing.

"Ha! Branka is only slightly more woman than I am," he said at last. "Bristle-chinned poetess."  
  
A smirk pulled at Zevran's lips. "Shocking that our fair Grey Warden didn't choose you instead.”  
  
Oghren grunted in agreement. "Wonders never cease. Well... good luck with that."  
  
"Why, thank you ever so much," Zevran replied, genuinely surprise.  
  
"So what _are_ your intentions with her?" Alistair asked suddenly.  
  
The ex-Templar was beginning to ladle the bubbling soup into bowls, and Zevran resisted the urge to narrow his eyes in suspicion at the warrior. It was not so long ago, that he suspected something between the two wardens.   
  
"You speak of Solona as if she is not present. She is just right over there, you know..."  
  
Alistair scowled as he handed over a bowl. "Don't dodge the question, I'm serious."  
  
Unable to help himself, Zevran hummed in amusement. "Do I detect a bit of jealousy there? Or is this brotherly concern? Feeling territorial, are we? Or perhaps you are concerned for me, yes?"   
  
He looked ready to argue, before sighing loudly and shaking his head. "I am just asking what your intentions are. You did try and kill us, remember?"   
  
"And now I owe her a blood debt, as she spared my life. And our travels have brought us..." Zevran trailed off, as he glanced towards the women. A smile tugged at his mouth as Solona looked over at that moment and winked at him. "Closer together.”  
  
"Is that a smirk? Are you smirking at me?" Alistair demanded, incredulously.  
  
Valiantly, Zevran tried to school his face. "I assure you, Ser, that I am not smirking. No smirking here, no."   
  
Oghren snorted, trying not to laugh.  
  
"Well, just... watch yourself, then," the Templar replied... it would have sounded like a threat, if Alistair didn't seem so deflated. "I'll be keeping an eye on you."  
  
"Wards are set," Solona suddenly announced, her arm sliding around his neck in a loose embrace. "Are you boys behaving?"  
  
Zevran's grin was the only answer he gave, and chuckling, both the mages sat down with them. Morrigan between Alistair and himself, Solona between him and Oghren... Shale chose to walk to the other side of the tunnel. The golem seemed like an immense, stone sentinel, content on keeping watch. Both ladies accepted the bowls of soup that Alistair offered them, though only Solona uttered words of thanks. Feeling impish, Zevran gave a quick wink to his warden, before he turned his attention to the Witch of the Wilds.   
  
"Has anyone told you what marvellous eyes you possess, my dear," he drawled.  
  
Morrigan rolled her yellow eyes. "Again with the flattery? Do you not tire from these pointless exercises?"  
  
"In Antiva, women are accustomed to being showered with the praise they deserve. Men should worship you at your feet as you pass," he replied, deadpan.   
  
Actually, Zevran was being fairly honest. Morrigan was a striking woman... she just didn't compare to the ravishing beauty sitting to his right.  
  
"They don't find that incredibly annoying?" the witch asked, arching an eyebrow.  
  
"They are goddesses receiving their subjects, just as you should be," Zevran argued, smiling cheekily. "Whatever would be annoying about that?"  
  
"I have no wish to be placed upon a pedestal," Morrigan said, waving her hand dismissively.  
  
Zevran tutted at her. "But you deserve no less. You should be admired by painters, copied by sculptors, exalted by poets," he declared. "Surely you know that yours is a beauty so exotic it..." Zevran paused, looking for the right phrase, teasing but not insulting. He wasn't one for hurting people's feelings unnecessarily, especially a woman's. "It would turn the eye of the Maker himself!"  
  
"I... suppose..." Morrigan stuttered, uncharacteristically flustered.   
  
She was cut off by a guffawing laugh from Oghren. "And you let your boyfriend get away with that?!" the dwarf grinned, looking at Solona.  
  
Boyfriend. That was an unexpected term to hear himself described as. There was certainly no denying they were lovers, but even after giving her Rinna's dagger, Zevran hadn't allowed himself to hope for anything more than a passing dalliance... despite how he found himself wanting more. The realisation had been unnerving, and he wasn't brave enough to broach the subject with Solona, fearing she didn't feel the same. His stomach churned uncomfortably, worried what his warden would. However, she merely chuckled at the dwarf's question.   
  
"My boyfriend's a public menace. But I wouldn't change him for anything."   
  
Inexplicably, Zevran felt his chest constrict at her words. "Usted me humildes, mi amora.”  
  
For the first time, he allowed himself to hope.

* * *

** Author's Note ** **  
Spanish translation: 'Usted me humildes, mi amora' means 'You humble me, my love'.**

 


	45. Deeper Underground (Amell PoV)

Tiredly, Solona ran a hand through her knotted red hair, trying not to grimace when her fingertips brushed over a clump of spider ichor that she'd previously missed. The Deep Roads had been nothing short of a claustrophobic nightmare. Fight after fight, after Maker cursed fight. Spiders, shades, deepstalkers and darkspawn had hampered their progress. They'd been travelling a week so far, and now found themselves in Ortan Thaig. Solona had managed to find some ancient documents that Orta had asked them to search for, so well preserved thanks to the almost airless conditions in the old ruin. They had even destroyed a retched Fade Beast, though that fight had left them with several injuries a piece, though thankfully all minor. However, despite all that, it was the sight of Ruck that bothered Solona the most. Alistair had glanced at her sideways when they had first set eyes on the dwarf turned ghoul. Her fellow warden had been their when she'd encountered Filda, and though Solona's heart went out to the woman, she couldn't help but wonder if Ruck's fate was shared by the wardens who came here on their calling. The faintly green hue to Alistair's skin made Solona think her brother in arms was having similar worries.  
  
"Go away, this is mine!" Ruck yelled, startling her from her gloomy thoughts. "Only I get to plunder it's riches!"  
  
"It's all right, I just want to talk to you," Solona soothed.   
  
She passed her bow to Zevran who glared at her, obviously not liking that she seemed to be disarming herself. Giving an almost imperceivable shake of her head, Solona sent out the barest hint of lightening to tingle his skin as their fingers touched. It was a silent reminder to him, that she was far from helpless. As she turned from Zevran, Solona lightly tapped her thigh, indicating to where the dagger he had given her was securely strapped beneath her robes. Duncan's blade was secured in a mirror image on her other thigh. So no, even without her beloved bow, Solona was far from unarmed. She simply hoped Ruck saw this as a gesture of some faith on her part.  
  
"No! No talking, you leave my territory!" the once dwarf demanded.   
  
Despite his stooped posture and unkempt beard, along with his threadbare armour, he still seemed quite an opposing figure. Not in the way that Alistair did with his broad chest and heavy armour, or Zevran with his gleaming eyes and air of danger, nor Oghren's crazed and drunken swagger. Ruck had a wilder, more unpredictable manner.  
  
"I'm not here to steal anything, I promise," Solona repeated.  
  
Ruck swung his head back and forth like a mabari in distress, before he cocked his head to the side, looking at her curiously.   
  
"Pretty lady..." he said, slowly. "Pretty eyes, pretty hair. Smells like the steam of burning water. Blue, like the deepest rock. So... the pretty lady won't take anything from Ruck? You won't take Ruck's shiny worms or pretty rocks?"  
  
"I just want to talk," Solona smiled, kindly. "I promise I won't take anything. None of us will."  
  
That seemed to placate the strange man in front of them. "Oh, Ruck not mind that," he stated, giving her a blackened tooth grin.  
  
Now that she seemed to have his trust, at least for the moment, Solona decided to start off with a fairly easy topic: "So your name is Ruck?"  
  
"Ruck not pretty name, not pretty like lady. Ruck is small, ugly, twisted," he replied.  
  
Solona's heart broke a little. "I think I met your mother, is her name Filda?"  
  
"Nnnno, no, no. No Filda, no mother," Ruck cried out, obviously distraught. "No warm blanket, and stew, and pillow, and soft words! Ruck doesn't deserve good memories. No... no, no, no, no!"  
  
"Dios bueno!" Zevran muttered, almost under his breath.  
  
"Shhhe, she did not know," Ruck continued. "Not what I did. I was very... very, very, very angry. And then someone was dead. They wanted to send Ruck to the mines. If Ruck went to the mines, she would know. Everyone would know. So I... came here, instead. Once you eat, once you takes in the darkness, you... not miss the light so much."   
  
The dwarf looked at Solona then, his brown eyes startling clear and intent, before he asked calmly: "You know, do you not? Ruck sees... yes. He sees the darkness inside you. Both of you," he added, turning his unwavering gaze towards Alistair.  
  
The Templar visibly baulked, taking a step away from the raving dwarf. Whilst Solona took a step to her right, blocking Zevran's path to Ruck. The elf scowled at her, his murderous intent clearly visible in the set of his jaw. She smiled at him sadly, hating the look of confusion and hurt that now clouded his amber eyes. Warden rules be damned, Solona couldn't stand to see her lover looking like a kicked puppy. She squeezed his hand, whispering she'd explain later, before turning back to Ruck.  
  
"You may be right," Solona agreed, gently. "Though we should tell your mother you're alive."  
  
Ruck shook his head in vehement disagreement. "No, no. She cannot. She remembers a boy. Little boy with bright eyes and a hammer. She cannot see this!" Unexpectedly, the dwarf lurched forward and grabbed Solona's wrist in a vice like grip. "Swear," he begged. "Promise. Vow you won't tell!"  
  
Ignoring the pain from his hold, Solona patted his hand with her free one. "Would you prefer she thought you were dead?"   
  
"Yes," he admitted, letting go of her wrist. "Tell the mother, Ruck is dead. He's dead and his bones are rotting in the crawlers' webs and she should... never look again."  
  
Solona's brow furrowed, lying left a bitter taste in her mouth... especially with everything that had happened with Jowan. But perhaps it would be kinder in this instance.   
  
"Alright," she relented. "I'll tell her you died bravely."  
  
Her agreement was greeted with another black toothed grin, before Ruck hurriedly shuffled away then, disappearing behind a large boulder, only to reappear moments later brandishing a large, leather bounded tome.   
  
"Pretty lady is like mother, yes? Too good, too pretty for the darkness. Ruck heard you talking," he stated, eagerly handing the book to Solona. "Talking about friends. You are good friend, Ruck help."  
  
A wave of apprehension hit her, though she managed to smile at the dwarf. Cautiously, Solona opened the tome, worried what she may find inside. She was surprised by what she saw.   
  
"It's a journal," she stated, glancing at Oghren.  
  
The red haired dwarf barrelled past Alistair, coming to hover over Solona's shoulder, as she knelt on the hard, stone floor. Careful not to drop the heavy book, she titled it towards the flickering light of Ruck's camp fire, hoping the once dwarf wouldn't mind. Oghren made a noise akin to a grunt.   
  
"Looks like Branka's writing. Never could read her blasted scrawl.”  
  
Squinting at the script, Solona could empathise, though years of deciphering Irving's writing had set her in good stead.   
  
"We found evidence today that the Anvil of the Void was not built in Ortan Thaig," she read aloud. "We will go south, to the Dead Trenches. The Anvil is somewhere beyond."   
  
  


Solona paused, troubled by what she saw next, and glanced up at Oghren.  
  
"Well woman, what else does it say?" he asked, gruffly.  
  
With a sigh, Solona returned to reading the journal entry. "My soldiers tell me I am mad, that the Dead Trenches are crawling with darkspawn, that we will surely die before we find the Anvil... if we find it." She swallowed thickly, not liking the direction this writing was heading. "I leave this here in case they're right. If I die in the Trenches, perhaps someone can yet walk past my corpse and retrieve the Anvil. For if it remains lost, so do we all."   
  
Once again, she paused looking up at the dwarven warrior.  
  
"There's more," he stated, nodding towards the tome.  
  
"If I have not returned and Oghren yet lives, tell him... No, what I have to say should be for his ears alone," she read. "This is my farewell."  
  
"Branka was thinking about me," Oghren mumbled, sounding a little dazed. "I knew she still cared, old softly" he said, almost to himself, before he shook his head. "Looks like the Dead Trenches are our next stop then." He lay a hand on Solona's shoulder. "They say the darkspawn nest there. Whole herds of them. But if that's where Branka went, that's where I'm going."  
  
Brushing herself off as she stood, Solona handed the heavy tome back to Ruck. "Can you keep this safe for me?" she asked, not wanting to haul the thing around with them, but knowing it was too important to her companion to just leave to rot.  
  
The broken dwarf nodded enthusiastically. "Ruck helped?"  
  
"Ruck helped," Solona agreed, smiling.   
  
She turned to her companions, noting Morrigan's barely concealed look of disgusted and Alistair narrowed eyes. Shale stood some distance away, seeming to guard the entrance to Ruck's little enclosure.   
  
"We'll head down to that river we saw," she instructed. "Get cleaned up and make camp in one of the abandoned dwellings for the..."   
  
Solona paused, trying to think if 'night' was the appropriate word. Time had lost nearly all meaning whilst they had been down here. Regardless, with a final smile for Ruck, the party began to head to the clearing she'd mentioned.  
  
"Next few hours?" Zevran offered. "Resting and spending time nursing our wounds, no?"  
  
"That's not the reasoning I expected from you," Alistair stated, without a hint of humour.  
  
"No? Making passionate, sensual love to a beautiful woman is a given, my friend," the assassin replied, flippantly. "Perhaps you should try it sometime."  
  
Morrigan and Solona exchanged glances, both biting back to urge to laugh. Though it was Oghren who broke the following silence with a great guffaw.   
  
"His balls would need to drop first!"  
  


* * *

  
 **Author's Note**  
Dios bueno! means Good god!

 


	46. Unimagined Promises (Zevran PoV)

Zevran found Solona sitting atop one of the ruined stone walls, that ran the length of the surprisingly sweet tasting stream. All traces of their previous battles were gone, either washed away in the fast flowing water, or healed by a mixture of injury kits and mild health poultices. The supplies being used instead of magic for once, since the mages had decided it was safest to maintain their mana levels, until it was a necessity. It was something Zevran could fully support, especially when it left Solona looking far less weary than she had since they had entered the Deep Roads. He hopped up on the wall beside her, and his heart beat a little faster, when she immediately rested her head on his shoulder. He began to card his hands through her still damp hair. Gently, he teased out the few lingering knots her red tresses had, before slowly rubbing her scalp with his fingertips. Enjoying being able to take a quiet moment alone with her.  
  
"A copper for your thoughts, cariño," he said softly, as he hopped up behind her.  
  
Solona gave a tired sigh. "Do you value my thoughts so little?"   
  
"Your thoughts, like the rest are you, are worth more than the royal jewels of Antiva," Zevran replied, smoothly.  
  
"Don't know what I'd do without you."   
  
She seemed so sincere when she spoke, and her words warmed him more than he cared to dwell on.   
  
"You would have a colder bed, and less attractive things to look at," Zevran chuckled, hoping to hide how inexplicably flustered he felt.  
  
A hum of possible agreement, or perhaps it was more from enjoyment, greeted his ears as his hands trailed down her neck to massage her shoulders.   
  
"And no one to make me putty in their hands," Solona smiled, before sighing again. "I suppose I owe you an explanation..."  
  
Her tone belied the smile she was trying to wear. And despite how badly Zevran wanted to know what plagued his warden's mind, he had long ago decided he would not push. She had given him the gift of patience, he would gladly try and do the same for her.   
  
"You do not owe me anything, mi amora," he replied.  
  
Zevran lightly kissing the top of her head, whilst his arms slipped around her waist. He felt Solona tense in his loose embrace, for a moment he was perplexed, until realisation hit. Closing his eyes, Zevran cursed himself silently for the slip. Though he had thought it a few times privately, and suspected it had slipped out once or twice before, the words were not an endearment he ever intend to utter. He doubted Solona understood the words, but the emotion behind them had been easy to hear. Just as he was debating withdrawing from her, hoping this moment would simply blow over by the morning, Zevran felt Solona's small hand curve possessively around his knee. She turned her head, and caught the underside of his jaw with a lingering kiss. Daring to look at her, Zevran was greeted with a look he never dared hope to see Solona direct at him. A look that at one time meant all the things he knew to be dangerous, a folly... and something he didn't deserve. But now craved more than anything. Unsure what to say, that wouldn't make him a bigger fool than he already seemed, Zevran gently stroked down the bridge of her nose. Adoring the way she wrinkled it once his finger reached the tip.  
  
"You mean a great deal to me, Zev," Solona said at length, almost as if she were afraid of his reaction. "You deserve to know... if you want to, that is."  
  
"If you are of a mind to tell me, I am happy to listen, mi querida."  
  
Sighing, Solona entwine her fingers with his. "This has the same weight as your revelations about the Crows...”  
  
Zevran nodded his understanding.  
  
"To join the wardens, you have to undergo the Joining. A recruit must drink from a chalice filled with darkspawn blood, not all survive." She paused, her grip on his fingers tightening. "There were three of us supposed to undertake the ritual, I was the only one who survived."  
  
Frantically, Zevran's mind processed what he hand just been told, storing the 'supposed to' for a later date. He had a feeling there was more to being a warden than what Solona had already revealed, especially with how tense she sat in his embrace.   
  
"Cariño..." he murmured, unsure what to say.   
  
"Obviously, we become tainted," Solona continued, quietly. "It's how Alistair and myself can sense the darkspawn. I'm not sure why it kills some instantly, and not others, I just know that it does. The ones of us it doesn't..."   
  
She paused, turning to bury her head into the crook of his neck. The gesture surprised Zevran, but he merely tightened his hold of her.   
  
"It's still killing us, slowly," Solona continued, her voice becoming shaky. "We get twenty, maybe thirty years if we are really lucky. Though some only get ten..."  
  
When her voice trailed off again, Zevran felt his chest constrict. Clenching his teeth together, he closed his eyes tightly. Solona was too good, too sweet, too lovely for this fate.   
  
"Did you know this, before..." his voice cracked, much to his chagrin.  
  
"No," she admitted, though she didn't sound bitter or sad. "And I can't blame Duncan for not telling me, I know a lot wouldn't join if they knew."  
  
"You would have?" he asked, incredulously.  
  
"What life would I have had locked in a tower?" she asked, conversationally. "I may be dying, but at least I'm getting to live first."  
  
An immense, and a slightly unexpected, feeling of pride washed over him as he looked down at the woman in his arms.   
  
"Eres una maravilla," he whispered into her slowly drying hair. "But that is not what troubles you, there is something more, no?"  
  
He felt more than heard Solona inhale deeply. "It is not," she admitted. "When a warden nears the end of their life, they under go what is known as The Calling. Often alone, though sometimes in a pair or a small group, wardens come to the deep roads. We are told it is because of an urge to kill as many darkspawn as possible before our time is up. But now..."  
  
"You wonder if there is more to it than that?" Zevran prompted.  
  
"Yes," Solona whispered. "Seeing Ruck, I wonder if that's what becomes of us. Could this Calling be another secret, another lie to hide the truth. Was the Calling cooked up to hide the fact we become ghouls, even from ourselves?"  
  
"Does Alistair suspect the same?" he asked, cautiously.  
  
Solona shrugged. "I do not know. You are the only one I've spoken to about this.”  
  
Her admission made Zevran's eyes widen in shock. He had never once thought she would come to him with a concern instead of her fellow warden. A feeling a fierce protectiveness washed over him. The warden was physically shaking as she spoke, and Zevran tightened his arms around her, hoping to ease her concerns. He had never seen her like this, afraid and worried, it humbled him that she would allow him to see her so vulnerable.   
  
"If you are correct, I will do everything in my power to stop that from happening," he told her, his voice low and rough.  
  
If Zevran were to be honest with himself, he doubted they would last that long. Death was a near certain threat during every battle, either one of them could die any day. And if, by some miracle, they both got through all this alive, he couldn't image Solona would stay with the likes of him. Though some part of him knew, even if she ended their entanglement, he would still be there for her. She had been a friend when he didn't deserve one, the only true friend he had ever had... it was something that would take the rest of his life to repay.  
  
"Even if...?"   
  
Zevran could clearly hear the unspoken question. 'Even if you have to kill me' was what she was asking. And though it pained him to do so, Zevran found himself agreeing, and meaning it. Despite the bad taste it left in his mouth, he promised:  
  
"Even if..."   
  
The answering sigh of relief shocked him almost as much as the tightening of her arms. "Thank you.”

* * *

** Author's Note  
** **'Eres una maravilla' translates from Spanish to 'You are a marvel'. Mi Amora means My Love & Mi Querida means My Darling.**

 


	47. Land of the Dead (Amell PoV)

Solona swallowed thickly, bile threatening to rise in her throat. The smell of rot and decay was almost over powering, the heat was stifling, and the noise... the sound of thousands of darkspawn clamouring and growling would forever be etched in her mind. Briefly, Solona squeezed her eyes shut, hoping to regain some of her composure. However, it was to no avail. For when she opened them again, her hand still shook as she tightly held her bow, and grimly regarded the hoard. The only comforting thought was that the darkspawn were several hundred feet below them, in a valley that had been naturally carved into the rock over a millennia. The Dead Trenches had been aptly named, that was for sure.   
  
Without warning, _something_ sped past them. A mighty gale driven by enormous wings sent them all staggering backwards. Human, elf and dwarf alike found themselves sprawled in a heap on the uneven cavern floor, even Shale rocked in the violent draft. Finally managing to extricate herself from the tangle of limbs, Solona clambered shakily to her feet, and stared in the direction of the _thing_. Her mouth went dry and her eyes widened. She would have screamed, if pure primal fear hadn't stolen her voice. Her heart hammered frantically in her chest, her breathing coming in startled gasping pants. Solona's body trembled at the sight in front of her, it was her every nightmare, made flesh. The Archdemon. The deafening roar that the beast unleashed, sent Solona to her knees, her bow clattering out of reach. She clutched her head, her hands curling over her ears, in a feeble attempt to block out the sound. It felt like a thousand needles pierced her brain all at once, and if should could think past the pain, Solona would have known that Alistair was also feeling the same effects. The warriors loud grunts of discomfort blended with her pitiful whimpers, though all that registered was pain, before gentle hands... more than she'd have expected, touched her carefully. One firm hand stroked her back in light, tentative movements. Another two, ones that she vaguely recognised as Zevran's, managed to carefully loosen the vice-like grip she had on her hair. He slowly lowered her hands to her lap, and caressed them in languid strokes. Then, another pair of hands unexpectedly cupped each side of her face. Solona allowed her head to be tilted upwards, and through a haze of unshed tears, she regarded Morrigan. The witch offered her a faint, tense smile as weak healing magic washed over her. The spell was a fraction of what Solona could cast herself, as her friend was no healer. Still, the soothing tendrils were a welcome reprieve from the intense pain. After several minutes, Solona fully came to her sense again. Acutely aware that whilst Zevran, Morrigan and even Oghren, who was still nervously rubbing her back, were tending to her... that her fellow warden had been left to fend for himself. Or in the very least, had Shale watching over him, and Solona doubted that the golem had much experience in the empathy department.  
  
"Alistair?" she managed to rasp out.  
  
There was a grunt of acknowledgement from the direction she had last spied the ex-Templar, accompanied by what sounded like someone struggling to sit up. Though before Solona could rise to investigate, Oghren unceremoniously shoved a water skin into her hands. Whilst Zevran wrapped his strong arms protectively around her torso, gently bringing her to rest against his chest, which effectively halted any shaky attempt she might have made to tend to her friend. Cautiously, Solona sipped from the water skin, the liquid unpleasantly warm, but still granting a welcome reprieve from the scratchy dryness she felt in her throat.  
  
"The Templar is fine," Morrigan stated, standing over her with arms crossed. "He is a complete baby, but he is fine."   
  
"Thank you," she smiled, hesitantly.  
  
"Are you alright?" Zevran murmured against her ear.  
  
Instinctively, her hands came to settle on top of his, where they now rested possessively against her abdomen. For once, as she gazed up at him, Solona did not care who noticed the evident affection in her eyes, not even Zevran himself. ** **  
  
**** ****"I am now.”

 


	48. A Walk of Nightmares (Zevran PoV)

The stench of filth and decay had become so overwhelming, they had taken to wrapping strips of torn clothing around their mouths and noses, in an attempt to block out the odour. But still it persisted, and even Shale seemed to wear a look of perpetual disgust, which was rather impressive for a golem. Sweat drenched Zevran' back, making his leather armour even more uncomfortable than the stifling heat had managed... also impressive, in a repulsive kind of way. He longed to make camp, and bathe in the water conjured from the mages' ice spells, which was far from ideal, but it always brought a welcome reprieve from the clawing heat. Still, Zevran had to suppose he was not the worst off. Solona and Morrigan may be fairing better in their lightweight robes, but at least he wasn't wearing heavy armour like Alistair or Oghren. Yet he still felt rotten. So to distract himself from his discomfort, Zevran currently fixated on the tantalising view of the warden's swaying hips, as she led their small group through the tunnels. Oghren was at her side, the pair consulting maps as they went. Alistair and Shale were bringing up the rear, which left Zevran to walk beside Morrigan.

"These Crows of yours, are they as extraordinary as you claim?" the witch asked, suddenly.

Zevran chuckled, darkly. "They all but rule over my homeland. Do you find that extraordinary?"

Morrigan arched one of her perfectly groomed eyebrows. "If true... Are they so powerful simply because they are very good a what they do? Or is there some secret to their power?"

"If there were a secret, it would only remain so if it were not told, my dear," he retorted.

"You are no longer bound to such a code," she observed. "Or do you believe their wrath will be greater than it already is, should you speak out of turn?"

"It may be that I simply do not wish to tell you," Zevran replied, glibly. "You get the most delightful wrinkle in your brow when you are curious.”

Morrigan's brow furrowed, revealing the exact wrinkle. "I see... You are impossibly frustrating, you know this?"

"I do. It is part of my charm, or so I'm told," he answered.

"Amell does have unconventional tastes, I will give her that," Morrigan stated, dryly.

The retort on the tip of Zevran's tongue died, as a strange muttering reached his ears. At first, he wondered if he was hearing things, until he caught the panicked look in Solona's eyes when she turned to glance behind her. The muttering came again, slightly louder, but still indistinct. Without thinking, the six of them closed ranks. After stowing maps and drawing weapons, they crept forward as one, with only half of the mages' conjured werelights to guide their cautious progress.

"First day they come, and catch everyone."

Zevran's ears twitched slightly at the whispered tone. It was becoming evident that the voice was female, but nothing else was obvious about the owner. Other than the need to be really creepy, skulking around the Deep Roads, muttering oppressive ramblings.

"Second day, they beat us and eat some for meat."

It was hard not to notice the pointed look Solona and Alistair exchanged, as the Templar replaced Oghren at the mage's side. Nor did Zevran miss the worried glance the dwarf gave him, as he past to take his place beside Shale.

"Third day, the men are all gnawed on again."

Solona cast Mass Rejuvenation on the party, the spell casting a hazy white glow around the carved stone corridor. It was not unusual for the warden to do so just before battle, but what did surprise Zevran, was the subtle Lifeward spell he felt tingle across his skin. He would have dismissed the feeling as nothing more than pre-fight stimulus, if he hadn't felt it before, back in the Brecilian ruins. He felt oddly touched, that Solona would think to cast that sort of spell on him.

"Fourth day we wait, and fear for our fate."

There was a faint glow at the end of the nearly dark passageway, and Zevran watched with a hint of pride as Solona switched out her bow for her double daggers. Despite the horror of their first training session, the warden had taken to duel wielding like a born rogue. And regardless of the unknown danger they were about to face, Zevran relished the chance to fight back to back with her.

"Fifth day they return, and it's another girl's turn."

Morrigan and Solona exchanged worried glances, fear very evident in their eyes. The look was unnerving, for neither women ever seemed to be scared. Whatever the two mages were thinking, he was unsure. However, Zevran could fully agree... the mutterings sounded more and more ominous.

"Sixth day, her screams we hear in our dreams."

Without thinking, Zevran slipped past the warden, forcing her to fall in to step behind him. To his immense relief, Solona didn't protest his presumption, and actually squeezed his shoulder silently, before falling into step beside Morrigan. Alistair looked at him out of the corner of his eye, then nodded... it seemed the Templar also believed the two women would be safest in the middle of their group.

"Seventh day she grew, as in her mouth they spew."

Zevran's stomach lurched at the image that created. The pained groan from Alistair and the heaving sound from Oghren, let him now he wasn't the only one struggling with the thought. Morrigan and Solona remained conspicuously quiet though. Shale however, gave a disgusted sounding grunt.

"Eighth day we hated, as she is violated."

"Dear Maker," Solona whispered.

Zevran to glance behind, finding his warden's eyes were blown wide. Though a fierce determination was replacing the shock, as flames suddenly began to dance along the length of her two daggers. He gave her a respectful nod, before turning his attention forward again.

"Ninth day she grins, and devours her kin."

The dim glow had become brighter now, and by the way the light flickered, it was apparent it was cast by burning torches. Solona and Morrigan extinguished their werelights as the party grew closer, and Zevran tightened his grip on his twin blades, enjoying the comforting weight of them in his hands.

"Now she does feast, because _she's_ become the beast."

As one, the sixth of them left the claustrophobic corridor and stepped into the brightly lit room. Weapons raised and stances poised for a fight, they were a formidable sight. Zevran had thought he was ready for anything... however, he found himself completely unprepared for the sight that greeted them.

 


	49. The Awful Truth (Amell PoV)

Anger, pure unadulterated anger, surged through Solona at the mere sight of Branka. She was well and truly reaching the end of her tether with the repugnant dwarf. Whether the woman was Oghren's wife or not, Branka was a raving lunatic, and the fate of Hespith; who had killed herself at the thought of facing the smith again and had died in Solona's arms, along with the fate of the rest of House Branka... all sacrificed to the darkspawn by the supposed paragon, rested heavily on Solona's mind. The fight against the broodmother had been disturbing enough, even before Hespith had revealed the monster had once been her friend, Laryn. Turned into the horrible creature, all because of Branka and her self desire. Now the self-righteous bitch deigned to reappear, only after they had completed the gruelling set of trails she'd forced them through, and reach the location of the Anvil of the Void. Solona had already been leaning towards not letting Branka get her grubby hands on the legendary anvil, and that was before they had encountered Cariden and hearing the paragon turned golem's tale.

"No! The Anvil is mine! No one will take it from me," Branka screeched, manically.

A giant, metallic hand clapped over Solona's shoulder, making her jump. "You! Please... help me destroy the Anvil! Do not let it enslave more souls than it already has!” he begged, before turning to the only other golem present. “Shale, you once fought to destroy the Anvil. Do not allow it to fall into unthinking hands again."

If a golem could looked shocked, Solona supposed Shale would at this moment, because somehow, that was the aura the stone monolith was giving off. The golem looked at her, then back at Cariden. Obviously, or at least as obvious as a golem could be with emotion, surprised that the once-paragon knew her... not to mention what he was suggesting she had once done.

"You speak of things I do not remember," Shale stated, her gravelly voice seeming suspicious. "You say we fought. Did you use our control rod to command us to do so?"

And if a golem could be offended, Cariden certainly appeared so. "I destroyed the control rods. Perhaps my apprentices eventually learned to replace the rods... I do not know. But if so, then all they need is the Anvil to make all the slaves they need."

"Don't listen! He's been trapped here for a thousand years, stewing in his own madness," Branka shouted.

"She is one to talk, no?" Zevran muttered, deadpan.

The irony was not lost of Solona, however, she could only stare at the female paragon in disbelief.

"Help me claim the Anvil, and you will have an army like you've never seen!" Branka continued.

Without really thinking, Solona slipped out from Cariden's loose hold, and strode purposefully towards Branka. It had already been difficult to control her anger, but as the female paragon began to smirk, obviously thinking she had won the argument, Solona really struggled to keep her fire magic at bay. To compensate, she balled her hand into a fist, and punched Branka square in her bulbous nose. Solona knew a mage punching a dwarf was mostly ineffective, even before taking into consideration the sword and shield strapped to Branka's back, but the look on the bitch's face as she swayed slightly backwards was worth the danger... as far as Solona was concerned. Unexpectedly, she felt an arm wrap around her shoulders, the scent of sandalwood accompanying it. Just as Oghren steeped between them and his wife.

"Eloquently put, cariño," Zevran teased.

"Branka, you mad, bleeding nug-tail!" the warrior growled. "Does this thing mean so much to you, that you can't even see what you've lost to get it?"

Solona's heart went out to the gruff dwarf. She couldn't begin to image what Oghren was going through, but it was obvious he wasn't just talking about the horrors they had witnessed. Horrors Branka had committed in the name of the Anvil of the Void. It sounded like the grizzled warrior was finally giving up on his wife, and Solona's heart broke a little for her new friend.

"Look around. Is this what our empire should look like?" Branka argued. "A crumbling tunnel filled with darkspawn spume? The Anvil will let us take back our glory."

"You are damned insane! What you did to your friends, your lover, proves that... But even your acts pale in comparison. The Anvil enslaves living souls!" Solona snarled. "Nothing is worth that cost. It _must_ be destroyed."

She felt Zevran give a subtle squeeze of her hand, before he whispered: "If you wish, my dear Grey Warden, I would be happy to accept a contract on her.”

"Have you no desire to discover this anvil's potential? It is a marvel, a tool of creation!" Morrigan asked, curiously. "You could rival the Maker himself with this instrument! If you destroy the anvil, I swear you will regret it."

"And how would you like to become a golem?" Solona retorted, dryly.

"You would not dare!" Morrigan gasped, dramatically.

She knew what her friend was doing, the witch so enjoyed playing demon's advocate, but Solona doubted Branka would pay any heed... the mad smith was too far gone in her obsession to be reached. Still, Solona found herself biting the inside of her cheek to stop laughing at her friend's dramatics. The display would be convincing, to someone who didn't know how cool and collected Morrigan was at all times, however Solona _did_ and found it ridiculous. Morrigan's theatrics could almost rival Zevran's, when she was of the mood, as the group had slowly discovered. Beside her, Solona was aware her assassin was trying not to snicker, and she noticed Alistair was also failing to hide a wry smile as well.

"Wouldn't I, if I cared only for power?" Solona replied, risking a glance at Branka. "We _have_ to destroy the Anvil."

The smith remained unmoved, choosing to glare daggers at Cariden than listen to reason, so Solona took the opportunity to silently get her friends' opinions. Morrigan and Alistair quickly gave their murmured agreements, and after only a moments hesitation, Oghren grunted his own consent. Shale was the last to acknowledge what Solona had said, but as the stone golem lumbered over; positioning herself directly between Branka and the group, she seemed to be pleased. As far as a golem could, that is.

"So the fiery mage fights with Cariden? Good, that seems right," Shale stated.

"Thank you, stranger. Your compassion shames me," Cariden admitted.

"As it does to all of us," Zevran retorted, gently.

"NO!" Branka screeched. "You shall not take it, not whilst I still live!"

The noise of agitation that Oghren made, would have put Cadoc's war growl to shame. "Branka, don't throw your life away for this!"

Solona's heart broke a little more for her abrasive companion. She empathised how hard the situation must be for him, especially after two years of trying to find his wife. To realise there was nothing left of the woman he loved... though still desperately trying to get Branka to see sense... must be tearing him apart. Solona couldn't help think that, for all his faults, the warrior was too good for the likes of the crazed smith.

"We have to destroy the Anvil, Branka," Solona tried to reason again, mainly for Oghren's sake. "Only suffering comes of it."

"Warden, just give her the blasted thing," Oghren grumbled, the look he gave her was downright pleading. "She's confused... maybe once she's calmed down, we can talk to her!"

"She is not the Branka you know, my friend," Zevran argued.

"Oghren, you've seen what she's done. She's no longer the woman you fell in love with," Solona said, hoping they wouldn't end up fighting against their newest companion. "She's obsessed. What she's done is beyond redemption."

Her voice caught as she said those words, knowing what she was asking. Bile threatened to rise in Solona's throat, the words tasting like ash. She never thought she'd be asking a friend to turn on the one they loved. It was something Solona couldn't imagine doing to Zevran, and she hadn't even confessed her true feelings to the enigmatic elf... and here she was asking Oghren to turn on his wife, for Maker's sake! However, her anguish must have shown, for the angry gaze the stout warrior was levelling her, suddenly softened. Though before Oghren could say anything in reply, Branka gave a hysterical bark of laughter.

"Bah! You are not the only master smith here, Cariden," she crowed. "Golems, obey me! Attack!"

With that Branka brandished an unusual, curved crystal cylinder, above her head. It was similar to the broken control rod the merchant had given Solona, before they set off to find Shale. There was a crackle of energy, and several stone golems that had been standing sentry along the chamber wall, began to shudder to life. There was a pained sounding gasp from the large metal construct that had once been Cariden, and Solona had to admit, the noise _did_ actually sounded pained. The thought was sobering. Glancing behind, she saw the once-paragon brought to his knees. Obviously, it was a caused by whatever Branka had done to activate the other golems. Shale gave an angry rumble in response, though thankfully seemed otherwise unaffected.

"A control rod! But..." Cariden started, seeming confused. "My friend! You must help me," he pleaded, his metallic eyes boring into Solona. "I cannot stop her alone."

"What have I said about helping strangers?" Morrigan grit out.

"I know, I know!" she called back.

The witch cast Mass Paralysis on their attackers, whilst Solona tried to cast a Crushing Prison on a lone golem that the witch's spell had missed. Deftly she dodged out of the way of a large, stone fist that had been intent on squashing her. Her offensive spell dying, as she tried to bring up a Shimmering Shield to protect herself. As the enemy golem raised it's arm to swing again, Alistair charged into it. The clang of steel on stone was deafening. The momentum knocked the golem off balance, and Shale managed to shatter it's head with a crushing blow. The tremor caused by the falling body, sent Solona tumbling to her knees. Though before she could even regain her balance, Zevran was helping her to stand.

"We really must speak about your choice of dates, mi querida," he teased.

"Alright, handsome. You can chose the next one," she quipped, forcing herself to match his levity.

Solona then drew her duel blades, moving to stand back to back with her lover, as two golems advanced on them from opposite directions.

"Oh, and as wonderful as the thought is, spending the entire time wrapped naked around each other is not a date!"

Zevran's delighted chuckle was the only reply she received.

 


	50. A Quiet Moment (Zevran PoV)

Zevran couldn't help the relieved sigh that escaped him, as he sank into the warm water for the fifth time. They had been back in Orzammar for less than half a day, having spent the better part of a month in the Deep Roads, and in those twelve hours, Zevran had bathed four times already. Truly relishing the ever constant supply of hot water, thanks to the dwarves' use of what they called thermal energy. As he sank lower into the water, another sigh escaped him... it had been a long and cruelling month. Trekking the long abandoned tunnels of the Deep Roads, fighting a never ending supply of darkspawn, deepstalkers and spiders. Dealing with Ruck, a Fade demon, Branka's madness, discovering the golems were once dwarves, destroying the anvil, and then the uproar that was caused by crowning Bhelen king. And that was all before he took into account Solona's revelation of the fate of wardens. Zevran shuddered a little at that thought, and of the promise he had made her. Despite how they'd first met, the thought of killing Solona; the woman Zevran could admit privately he adored... even if it was to save her, chilled him to the core. His mind began to spiral down that dark path, before nimble slender fingers suddenly began to card through his damp tresses, that hung free of his usual braids. He didn't need to turn around to know who it was, there was only one person who visited him, after all... not to mention he could smell the faint hint of rose petals that clung to Solona's skin. And as pleasant as the fragrance was on her, Zevran found himself longing to bathe his warden in the scents of his own country. In ylang-ylang and orange blossom... she would smell divine. Her voice was soft and gentle, ghosting over the outer shell of his tapered ear, as she asked:

“Dare I ask what that smirk if for?”

“Unless you want to hear about the beautiful sex goddess I am intending to seduce, it is best not to ask,” he teased.  
  
Unabashed, Zevran pulled himself to sit on the side of the stone tub, and glancing to the side, he drank in the sight of Solona, as she handed him a towel. Her fiery hair was curling slightly at the ends, as it liked to do when it was freshly washed. Her face was bare of make up, with only her tattoo standing in stark contrast against her porcelain skin. Her verdant eyes sparkled almost impishly, which came as some relief to Zevran. He had been worried, down in the Deep Roads, where her usually kind eyes had turned hard and distant the longer they had remained in the depressing tunnels. His eyes travelled from her face, down the elegant column of her throat, and past the generous proportions of her delectable bosom. Solona was clad in a short, camisole shift, that barely reached her mid thigh. It was of light, lavender silk with black lace trim around the bust and hem. It was a garment Zevran had never seen before, though he'd never had the pleasure of seeing Solona in that type of shift before. And from the oddly shy and demure way the warden was perching on the side of the tub, two things he would never have attributed to his fiery mage, Zevran hazard a guess that Leliana had appropriated the shift whilst they had been away... he would have to thank his fellow rogue later.

“Like what you see?” Solona asked.

Zevran could tell the warden was trying to keep things light and cheerful, probably as a direct result of everything they had gone through in the Deep Roads. However, there was a weariness that undercut her playful tone. Most would have missed it, Zevran supposed he would have too, if not for the amount of time he spent with his warden. He _knew_ her, could now read Solona as easily as she read one of the books she loved so much, and she was exhausted. So after securing the offered towel snuggly around his waste, Zevran smirked at the mage.

“Was there any doubt?” he asked, cheekily.

Without warning, he swept Solona into his arms, and the startled yelp of surprise she made was utterly adorable. Yet Zevran had a hard time keeping a scowl off his face, when he realised just how slender the warden had become. The fiery mage had always been curvy but petite, now even though she still had her curves, she was worryingly light. Their time in the bowels of the earth had not been kind to any of them, but it seemed to have had more of a toll on the warden than Zevran had originally realised. Which would not do. Solona needed her strength, to be fighting fit... and it would be criminal, as far as he was concerned, if she lost her pleasing figure. _Especially_ when he could do something about it. There and then, Zevran decided to seek out Leliana in the morning. For he was sure his fellow rogue could convince the two wardens to stop at Redcliffe, once they left the Frostback Mountains, without it seeming like anyone was worrying about Solona's health. Mind made up, Zevran pushed the thought aside, as he gently lowered his fiery mage onto the bed, deftly slipping her shift up and over her head as he did so. Whenever he pulled the stunt... usually when she was wearing one of his shirts... it always earned him a delightful giggle, and tonight was no exception. However, as Solona reached for the towel that now sat low on his hips, Zevran slipped just out of her reach. At the warden's perturbed expression, he couldn't help but out right laugh.

“You are so pretty when you pout, mi amora,” Zevran teased.

Grinning, he walked to the other side of the bed, hurriedly drying himself, before discarding the towel over the back of a nearby chair. The room they were in was highly opulent, by traditional dwarven standards, since the party had been granted rooms within the palace. Though to Zevran, it was a bizarre blend of drab grey stone, and gaudy paintings. However, the bed was surprisingly large and soft, considering it was made for dwarves. Not that it really mattered, as he slipped onto the bed next to Solona, and she snuggled her naked body close to him. Her bare arm curled almost protective over his torso, and Zevran felt more relaxed and content than he could ever remember being before.

 


	51. The Calm Before the Storm (Amell PoV)

When Solona had first agreed to help a sceptical Sten locate his missing sword, she had no idea how complicated yet surprisingly easy, it would turn out to be. It had taken them to several places, and several shady characters, with the last one being found by Bodahn whilst they had been in the Deep Roads. Sten had 'questioned' the unfortunate soul himself, according to Leliana, and had finally found who had bought his blade. The new owner turned out to be Dwyn, who Solona had met during her first time in Redcliffe. The dwarf had been strangely accommodating this time round... perhaps the warrior had warmed up to her, after fighting side by side to defend town. Though Solona supposed it was more likely the dwarf had been rather cowed by the seven foot Qunari that had loomed over him, not to mention the combined glares that both Zevran and Oghren had levelled at him. She'd actually felt sorry for Dwyn, after all he'd done nothing wrong, merely bought the wrong sword from a less than reputable trader. So to make peace, Solona had offered to buy the dwarf dinner, which seemed to ease the atmosphere in the small hut. That had been over two hours ago. Bella had served them all excellent meals in the tavern; newly christened 'The Warden's Rest', something Zevran found immensely amusing. However as Oghren, Dwyn, and even Bodahn had started up a round of drinking games, Solona had quickly excused herself to go in search of Sten, who seemed to have disappeared. She had eventually found him down by the lake, staring contemplatively across the water that lapped gently at the pebbled foreshore.

“Strange... I had almost forgotten it... completion,” Sten said at length. “Are you sure you're a Grey Warden?” he asked, his gaze turning to Solona. “I think you must be an ashkaari, to find a single lost blade in a country at war.”

She smiled at the behemoth, as they began to walk along the shore. She had no idea what he just called her, but sentiment was rather evident, even from someone as stoic as the Qunari.

“You're welcome, Sten.”

“I would thank you for this, if I knew how,” he paused for a moment, seemingly gathering his thoughts. “I could deliver a much more satisfying answer to the Arishok's question, if the Blight was ended, don't you agree?”

Solona's smile widened in understanding. “Absolutely.”

“I must admit, I had been mistaken,” Sten stated, in his usual cryptic manner.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“You are a soldier, worthy to stand among the beresaad. I did not think so, when we first met.”

Her smile threatened to turn into a smirk. “Thank you.”

“You are welcome, Kadan,” Sten said, his gaze somewhat warmer. “The day will come when the Arishok sends us here. On that day, I will not look for you on the battlefield.”

The Qunari's words left Solona blinking up at him in surprise. Once again, she didn't understand the unfamiliar word, but it seemed like a term of endearment. Though the shock of that, was overwritten by the queasy feeling settling in her gut. The thought of a Qunari invasion... the possibility of fighting against someone she'd come to consider a friend... it left her mouth dry, and heart racing. Trying to school her face, lest it belie her turmoil, Solona turned her gaze out across Lake Calenhad, studying the way the moonlight reflected on the barely rippling water.

“You think the Qunari with invade Fereldan?” she asked, evenly.

“In time,” Sten explained, regretfully. “There is no point dwelling on this. We should move on.”

Solona sighed, feeling more than a little melancholy. “Agreed.”

Obviously Sten felt the conversation was over, for with a slight incline of his head he strode away, leaving Solona to resume her quiet inspection of the dark water of the lake. Slowly, she meandered towards the nearby board-walk, sinking down to the wooden planks as soon as she could, and propped her shoulder against a rough cut post. Since leaving the tower, the sight of freely moving water had come to give Solona a sense of comfort, and she hoped this evening would be no exception. Sten's words unsettled her, not to mention they would be on their way to Denerim tomorrow, along with Arl Eamon and his retinue. Even though it signalled that the journey was nearly at and end, the knowledge left Solona feeling... empty.

“Should I be concerned that you are seeking out my replacement, cariño?” Zevran called out suddely, his tone teasing. “First taking Dwyn to dinner, then a moonlit walk with Sten. You will scandalise our dear Wynne.”

Unable to help herself, Solona let out an undignified snort. “Like you could be replaced... and let Wynne be scandalised.”

Solona still hadn't fully forgiven the elder mage for her comments in the Brecilian Forest, and Zevran gave her a knowing smile as he sat down beside her. Unexpectedly, Cadoc's unmistakable weight and warmth was at Solona's back, and the mabari huffed what sounded like an agreement. She and Zevran exchanged a look, before both burst out laughing. With ease born of months of intimacy and companionship, the elf slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her close to him. Solona went willingly, resting her head on his shoulder, whilst their right hands entwined and rested upon his thigh. Cadoc for his part, simply stretched out beside them. His great head coming to rest across Solona's crossed ankles. A sigh, somewhere between sad and contented, escaped her lips, and she blinked back unexpected tears as Zevran held her closer. Solona was scared, and he knew, and he was there. No further words were spoken, there didn't need to be. Though as Zevran's hand gripped hers a little tighter, Solona realised she wasn't the only one needing comfort. There was no way to tell what the future held... even for a mage, but right then, sat beside the lapping waters of Lake Calenhad, in the arms of the man she was sure she was falling in love with, Solona was okay with that. Right then, what they had, it was enough.

 


	52. Past and Present (Zevran PoV)

As they walked through the suspiciously deserted backstreet, Zevran stuck to Solona's side like a shadow. He'd been on high alert since leaving Arl Eamon's estate, his keen eyes constantly scanning the busy crowds of Denerim. The hubbub caused by the pending Landsmeet had been so hectic that he, Solona and Leliana had elected to take one of the side routes across the city, as they'd done on previous visits. Oghren, who was still a little overwhelmed by the vast sky above him, merely grunted his assent, 2hich was how they found themselves walking through the seemingly abandoned street. The quietness didn't bode well. Usually they would have encountered a street urchin, washer woman, or a rag and bone man by now. But there wasn't another soul to be seen... not even a scrounging mongrel. Zevran obviously wasn't the only one on alert, as he felt the telltale tingle of Solona's magic across his skin, as she subtle cast Shimmering Shield on the party. A moment later, it was followed by the warm magical caress, that meant the warden had added Life Ward to his protection. The realisation pulled a small smile onto his lips, despite his current wariness for their situation. Zevran was not exactly sure why Solona took extra pains with the spells she cast on him, and he'd never sought out the opportunity to enquire. Part of that was cowardice, since he'd long decided that no matter how mutually enjoyable their dalliance was, Solona was probably warding him for purely practical reasons... and not sentimental that he secretly hoped for. Regardless, considering how up close and personal he got with their foes during a fight, Zevran was extremely thankful for Solona's forethought.

"Trap. Up ahead," Leliana advised.

The whispered warning pulled Zevran from his thoughts, and as he looked in the direction his fellow rogue was indicating, his blood ran cold. He _knew_ that trap. The style, location, even the way it was concealed, was all too familiar. His heart began to hammer in his chest, as adrenalin surged through his body. He knew the trap... and the person who laid it.

"And so here is the mighty Grey Warden, at long last," a horribly familiarly voice drawled, from the staircase above them. "The Crows send their greetings, once again."

"So they sent you, Taliesen?" Zevran addressed his one time lover, his voice sombre. "Or did you volunteer for the job?"

"I volunteered of course," Taliesen smirked. "When I heard that the _great_ Zevran had gone rogue, I simply had to see it for myself."

Inwardly, he winced at his old friend's words. "Is that so? Well here I am, in the flesh.”

"You can return with me, Zevran," Taliesen cajoled. "I know why you did this, and I don't blame you. It's not too late. Come back and we'll make up a story. Anyone can make a mistake."

Listening to his one time friend, Zevran felt physically sick. A story... the thought echoed around his head. The last time his fellow Crow had suggested making up a story, was after he'd cursed Rinna, left her bleeding out her life blood. The thought that Taliesen meant to do the same to his beloved mage, had bile rising in Zevran's thought. He'd die before he let anyone lay a finger on her.

"Of course, I'd need to be dead first," Solona interjected.

The neutrality in her voice was so disconcerting that Zevran found his head snapping in the warden's direction. What he saw, honestly scared him, Solona's entire countenance was simply blank. Her stance neutral, her face an empty mask. For a woman who was normally so full of life, so open, so expressive... looking at her now, cut Zevran to the core. In that moment, fear like he'd never felt before gripped him. He truly worried that Solona thought he was listening to his fellow crow. Zevran knew they'd had a less than auspicious start, but they'd completely moved passed that... or so Zevran had thought, hoped. The notion that his beautiful warden suspected he might betray her, tore at him. It was an actual, physical weight in his chest. And it was then that Zevran realised how he really felt for Solona... that his life would end without her in it. The only glimmer of hope he had, was that the mage hadn't once glanced in his direction, her emerald eyes remaining firmly locked on Taliesen.

"That's true," Zevran agreed, at length. "You would need to be dead."

Behind them, he heard Leliana unsling her bow, and Oghren grunt as he hefted his great battleaxe.. Zevran couldn't blame them. After all, he had try to kill Solona when he first met her. They'd been more accepting that Alistair or Wynne, but still Zevran knew that only Solona believed his oath to her, and even that seemed in doubt at that moment.

"Ha! Now there's the Zevran I remember!" Taliesen proclaimed.

Zevran openly winced at that. He himself knew that he was far from the man he had been as a Crow, but hearing those words... out of the corner of his eye, Zevran noticed Solona slowly begin to unsheathe one of her daggers, though her gaze was still resolutely trained on Taliesen. Zevran took a heartbeat to take in the sight of her; alabaster skin set like a marble mask, hair like dancing flames as the breeze whipped through it. Her lithe but curvy figure was encased in sleek black, leather armour, instead of her customary Archon robes... thanks to Master Wade. She was a deadly, alluring vision. It took Zevran another moment to realise that the dagger she had unsheathed was Rinna's, and in that heartbeat he _knew_ that Solona still had faith in him.

"I am no fool... old friend," Zevran stated, turning his attention back to Taliesen.

Slowly, as to not startle their other companions into the wrong action, he closed the distance between himself and Solona. Though her eyes never left the other Crow, the warden turned her back to him, taking up the stance they'd been practising since the day she asked for training. The relief that washed over Zevran was palpable. Fighting back to back was how he and Solona had trained to fight at close quarters together, and there was no doubt in Zevran's mind, that Taliesen had other Crows hiding in wait, simply waiting for a signal to strike. The fact that Solona trusted him enough, had enough faith in him, to not even question his loyalty... to openly turn her back to him in an obvious show of trust.

"I am not about to return to the loving arms of the Crows, believe me," Zevran continued, more for benefit of Leliana and Oghren.

His heart stuttered slightly, as he felt Solona's fingers ghost across his, before she drew Duncan's dagger. It never ceased to amaze Zevran, how quickly his warden's breathing took up the rhythm of his own breaths, an this time was no exception. It was as if the fiery mage was completely in tune with him, and Zevran doubted it was something he'd ever get use to. The slightly cool prickle of a Regenaration spell began to creep through his system, as Solona finished her battle preparations.

"You are going to lose, Taliesen," Zevran stated, confidently. "You're going to lose badly. You should have stayed in Antiva."

The look of shock on the face of his one time lover, was priceless. "What?! You've gone soft in the head! The Crows will make you pray for death, you fool!"

Zevran bit back the urge to laugh. The Crows had already made him wish for death, countless times... the last had led him to Solona. At that moment, the warden slightly shifted her weight, causing her back to press into his. It wasn't enough to set him off balance, merely enough pressure to let him know she was there. It was a silent gesture, that said she had his back. One that Zevran would never be able to express his gratitude for.

"Perhaps they will," he replied to his fellow Crow. "But I'll take what time I have. You have a choice, Taliesen..." Zevran paused, glancing about the deserted street. "All of you do," he added for good measure.

"You would turn your back on us for that... whore!" Taliesen shouted. "You think she actually cares about you? You're a whoreson, Zevran. She'll discard you, once she gets bored."

Bile rose in Zevran's throat at his old friends words, Taliesen had always known how to play on Zevran's perceived inadequateness, this was no different. The words stung, for they were the same ones that filled his head late at night, even whilst Solona slept in his arms. Still, be that as it may be, Zevran still knew he would not turn on the warden. Despite being certain of their future, or lack there of, Zevran knew he would be loyal to her until his dying breathe. He was about to open his mouth to retort, when Solona stole the opportunity from him. Without warning, the warrior mage unleashed a powerful Inferno, directly above Taliesen. The rogue had to hastily jump and scramble out of the way, to avoid being hit by any of the fiery magic. Zevran spared a glance at the woman by his side, and was surprised to see her eyes burning as fiercely as her magic. Solona, normally calm and collected even in battle, was positively livid. And as the madness rained down around them, he fully understood why most of Thedas feared mages.

 


	53. Righting Old Wrongs (Amell PoV)

As Solona pulled Duncan's dagger from her lifeless foe, she glanced at her companions. Oghren bellowed triumphantly beside her, as his mighty axe cleaved a Crow assassin in two. Leliana had found a perch on the balcony of one of the houses, and her expertly sighted shot took down the last enemy bowman. However as Solona's eyes fell to Zevran, her blood ran cold. He was lying on the ground clutching his abdomen, glaring defiantly at Taliesen, who was baring down on him. After another quick check on Oghren, to make sure the stout warrior wouldn't be overwhelmed by the remaining Crows, Solona set off at a frantic run. Pure instincts had her sink Duncan's knife into a hapless assassin, foolhardy enough to try and stop her. Adrenaline burned in her veins, and her heart thumped wildly in her chest as she ran on, leaving her beloved blade behind. There was only one driving thought in Solona's mind, she _had_ to save Zevran.

It seemed to happen almost in slow motion, as Taliesen moved to crouch over the injured elf, his dagger poised to strike. Without thinking, Solona buried her remaining blade between the assassin's shoulder blades, driving it to the hilt. Taliesen's knife clattered to the floor, as he crumpled to the side. Wet gurgling breaths escaped him, indicating Solona's dagger had found his lungs, and though it was Solona that had landed the killing blow, Taliesen's fading eyes were staring accusingly at Zevran. Later, much later, it would haunt Solona that she took enjoyment from what happened next. With her hand still firmly gripping the hilt of her blade, the dagger that Zevran had given her... the one Solona suspected had once been Rinna's, she leant over Taliesen. Bending to bring her lips close to the bastard's ear, a wicked smile formed on her lips.

"Zevran is worth more than you could ever imagine," she snarled. "And I will defend him until my dying breath."

With that, she twisted the dagger, ending Taliesen's miserable life. Even as the assassin gurgled out his last breath, Solona stepped over him, and knelt beside Zevran. The elf was looking worryingly pallid, but still he managed half a smile. Gently, Solona moved his hands away from the heavily bleeding wound in his stomach, and summoning the last dregs of her mana, she began to knit the angry slash together. Solona knew she didn't have enough energy to heal Zevran completely, but she could certainly stop him bleeding to death. Once they got him back to Eamon's estate, she'd be able to take proper care of him, and that's all she cared about in that moment. For quite some time, Solona had realised how she felt about the enigmatic elf. But as she looked down at Zevran, blinking back tears, she vowed to tell him. Once he was recovered, she _would_ tell him. For there was no doubt in Solona's mind... she loved him.

 


	54. Haze (Zevran PoV)

With a sigh, Zevran settled back into the mountain of fluffy pillows Solona had arranged for him. The room he found himself in was finely appointed, with brightly woven tapestries hanging on the grey stone walls. Fine fur rugs carpeted the flagstone floor, and the carved four poster bed was large and soft, with rich orange drapes and a warm, golden eiderdown. It was not the first room he had laid in, since returning from the fight with the Crows. Lady Isolde had only seen fit to direct a scullery maid make up a bed in the servants wing. Solona had been furious, as had Leliana and Oghren, from what Zevran could hazily remember. Despite the warden's magic, the pain had been too great for him to concentrate on anything past his breathing. However, as Solona deftly tended his wound, whilst patiently instructing Leliana on how to make a poultice, Oghren had seemingly stormed off in search of Arl Eamon and Bann Teagan; the latter had quickly returned with Alistair, profusely apologising about Isolde's behaviour. The two warriors had then helped relocate him to the grand accommodation he was now in. Zevran had taken all of this in his stride. Quietly using Solona's calming presence to ground himself, and used the expressions that flitted across her beautiful face, as a way to measure how well he was healing. However what did surprise him, was that Morrigan arrived not long after Teagan and Alistair. The witch quickly relieved Leliana of her apprenticeship, and set about making more potent poultices and tonics, whilst Solona continued to pour her mana into healing spells. The warden had barely stopped to allow Zevran to be moved, when Morrigan forced a lyrium draft into her hands.

Once they'd reached the chamber... their progress slow due to Zevran's refusal to be carried, and the halting steps he took, despite being supported on either side by Alistair and Teagan... a great, copper tub of hot water had been waiting for him. Solona had shooed the other men out of the room, before stripping to her under-slip. Only Morrigan stayed, and the two women divested Zevran of his remaining clothing, which was only his breeches and boots, before carefully helping him into the tub. Whilst Solona had helped him bathe, Morrigan prepared more drafts. In truth Zevran hadn't expected the witch to be so helpful, though he didn't think for a second it was out of concern for him. Morrigan was a hard woman to read, often prickly and aloof, but Solona seemed to fully have her respect. The pair were often thick as thieves, though Zevran had noticed Morrigan was relatively friendly with Sten and Leliana too. He was vaguely aware that there'd been some sort of task, that the three of them had performed for the witch... back before Zevran had first encountered the group. Alistair wasn't exactly sure of the details, as he and Wynne had not been included in their plan. Zevran had attempted to ask Solona about it once, but the warden had simply shook her head, politely refusing to speak about matters that 'were not hers to tell'. Her response had left him itching to know more, but Zevran had respected Solona more for the refusal. Yet he was certain, whatever had happened, made Morrigan feel she owed the warden something. Zevran doubted the witch would have been helping otherwise... not that it mattered.

After Solona had decided he was sufficiently clean, the two women had helped him out of the tub, and to the bed. Morrigan had unceremoniously handed him a towel, and as Zevran dried himself, the witch had taken her leave, the warden politely seeing her to the door. Out of the corner of his eyes, Zevran watched Morrigan give Solona's hand a friendly squeeze, before exiting the room... it was an unexpectedly warm gesture. The warden shut and bolted the heavy oak door behind her the witch, though throughout all of this, Zevran had felt too numb and drained by the events to make any of his usual quips. In all honestly, all he wanted to do, was pull Solona in his arms, and fall asleep... he really hoped his fiery mage would indulge him.

 


	55. A Moment's Pause (Amell PoV)

Despite how drained she felt, a smile quirked Solona's lips as she regarded the resting figure in the ornate bed. He was safe. A relieved sigh escape her lips, as she let that fact sink in. Zevran's wound was healed, and after sufficient rest, he would be no worse for wear... at least physically. Solona was still unsure how Zevran felt about her killing Taliesen, with Rinna's dagger no less. But she was sure the other Crow would have killed her assassin, and there was nothing in all of Thedas which would stop her protecting him. Cautiously, Solona approached the bed, only to be stopped in her tracks by what she saw. Valiantly, she managed to stifle a giggle, upon realising that Zevran was fast asleep. She had only left his side to see Morrigan to the door, and to ask her fellow mage to place an order with the merchant Cesar for her. That had barely taken a matter of minutes, but the assassin was already lost to the Fade. Smiling, Solona gave his forehead an affectionate kiss, before deciding to tend to her own needs. Her armour was still blood stained after all, even as it haphazardly littered the floor. Shuddering slightly, she gathered the discarded pieces and knelt by the roaring fire. Diligently, she set about cleaning the dyed black leather, mentally reciting Zevran's instructions as she worked. It was Solona's least favourite part about learning how to duel wield, she much preferred her beloved bow and casting spells at a distance, where bloody and ichor couldn't reach her. Still, she had to admit there was something invigorating about fighting in the thick of things, back to back with her beloved assassin. However, nothing made the gruesome task of cleaning her armour any more bearable, and she'd long since taken to reciting spells and instructions in her mind, to take her thoughts as far away from the bloody aftermath as she could manage.

Eventually, Solona was convinced that her armour was cleaned to a standard that even Zevran would approve of. So she quietly folded the leggings, kilt, and tunic into a nearby storage chest, before moving towards the jug and basin at the far side of the room. A murmur from the bed caught her attention, though a glance in Zevran's direction revealed the elf was still fast asleep. Quickly, Solona stripped from her under-things, and hastily washed in the tepid water. She would have much preferred a bath, but the water in the tub was too filled with blood from bathing Zevran... nothing in all of Thedas would have convinced her to use that water. Another murmur from the bed led Solona to believe her assassin was awaking from his impromptu slumber, so after hurriedly towelling off, she grabbed a clean under-slip from the armoire. Dressing as she walked, Solona made her way to the bed, and gently sat beside her love, smiling softly as he blinked up at her.

* * *

** Author's Note  
** **Solona's armour is inspired by the Blackblade armour (that my mage warden somehow ended up with after Awakening!).**

 

 

 


	56. Someone to Rely On (Zevran PoV)

The gentle sinking of the bed roused Zevran from his impromptu sleep. He hadn't realised he'd dozed off, until his bleary eyes re-opened. Turning his head slightly, Zevran found Solona regarding him, affection evident in her gaze. He swallowed thickly, past the sudden lump in his throat. If it wasn't for the remarkable women beside him, Zevran knew he wouldn't be alive. There were so many things he was feeling, so many things he wanted to say. Most scared him immensely, and even though it probably made him a coward, Zevran didn't feel able to give voice to them.

"There it is... Taliesen is dead, and I am free of the Crows," he said, solemnly instead. "They will assume that I am dead, along with Taliesen. So long as I do not make my presence known to them, they will not seek me out."

"That's a good thing, right?" Solona smiled.

"A very good thing," Zevran assured. "It is, if fact, what I had hoped for ever since you decided not to kill me."

His warden's smile turned into a small smirk, as she shifted her position to curl up beside him. Unable to help himself, he took a moment to simply take in the woman in front of him. Gently, Zevran tucked an errant lock of Solona's flaming hair behind her ear. His action was rewarded with a kiss to his wrist, a gesture that caused a warmth to bloom in his chest, and set his heart beating a little faster. It was a feeling that happened more and more frequently in the mage's presence. Something that truly terrified Zevran, for he had an suspicion of what it meant, however much he wanted to deny it. A life time of fending for himself had left him more than a little wary.

"I suppose it would be possible for me to leave now, if I wished," he said, cautiously. "I could go far away. Somewhere the Crows would never find me."

For the briefest of moments, Solona's face fell. A mere heartbeat when she looked as if she could break, before her expression became completely neutral. It was the same mask the mage had taken to adopting, whenever she spoke with Wynne or Isolde, and realising that, made Zevran cringe. It twisted his insides in a way her couldn't explain, he hated that she was looking at him like that.

"You... could," she agreed, at length.

Even though Solona's tone remained even, her eyes no longer met his. And as much as it pained Zevran to watch his warden close herself off from him, it gave him some small, strange hope. Hope that he wasn't so foolish for the worrying feelings he felt for her. Hope that, perhaps, she may feel something for him too.

"I think, however, that I could also stay here," Zevran countered, slowly. "I made an oath to help you, after all. And saving the world seems like a worthy task to see through to the end, yes?"

Solona's verdant eyes darted up to meet his for the briefest of moments, before her gaze fell again, trained resolutely on the golden eiderdown of the bed. Zevran watched her take a deep inhalation, open her mouth to speak, only to shut it again. Solona shook her head, sighing.

"I told you, I hold you to no oath Zev. If you wish to go, you should go."

His heart began to thump louder in his chest. Solona's neutral mask was cracking, even as she avoided his gaze. Zevran realised then that he had hurt her. He hadn't meant to, not truly, he merely wanted to protect himself. But realising he had hurt his beautiful warden, hurt him. Gritting his teeth, Zevran moved to a more upright position, wincing as he did. A hiss of pain escaped his clenched jaw, as the newly mended skin pulled over his abdomen. Without hesitation, Solona was there. The soothing touch of her magic caressing him, as her arms slid around his shoulders. Carefully, and with the mage's aid, Zevran settled back against the stack of pillows. As quickly as she had come to his aid, Solona began to move away from him. Hoping to stop her retreat, Zevran cupped her face in both his hands.

"But that is what I am asking you," he said, his voice a little shaky. Much to his chagrin. "Do you want me to go? Or do you need me here?"

To Zevran's immense surprise, and horror, a tear escaped Solona's eye. It was swiftly followed by another one. She closed her eyes, her brow furrowing, as if in concentration. When she opened them again, her emerald gaze was shimmering with unshed tears. The warden's hands moved to clasp his wrists, and Zevran fully expected Solona to pull his hands away from her. However, she simply held them.

"I want you to do what is best for you," Solona whispered.

Floored. Stunned. Shocked. They were just a few words that described how Zevran felt at that moment. Never in his life could he remember someone asking him for _his_ opinion. He didn't know what to think. Say. Do. What was even more confusing to him, was that it seemed that Solona would stand by whatever he decided, even if it pained her to do so. Zevran didn't understand. He couldn't fathom why she would put his desires over her own, especially as he wiped the tears from her soft cheeks.

"I... am not sure how to respond to that," he replied, truthfully. "Nobody has ever..." He shook his head. "I mean, normally, these things are decided by others."

"You're free of the Crows, Zev," Solona said. "You're free to decide what _you_ want."

She removed his hands from her face, though instead of moving away like Zevran expect, Solona simply held his hands in hers. The pounding of his heart intensified, to the point he was certain Solona could surely hear it. Zevran knew, all too well, what he wanted. But... did she feel the same? Was it worth the risk? It would be more sensible to leave now, before he made a fool of himself. Before Solona rejected him, hurt him, realised he wasn't worthy of her. However, the thought of leaving her side was crushing, left him feeling breathless, and he knew he couldn't do it.

"Er... then I suppose that I shall... stay?" Zevran decided, a little nervously. "Is that... good?"

For the first time since they'd started talking, Solona smiled. Sadness still lingered in her eyes, but her smile was warm. Open and honest, as it always was when it was turned towards him. Despite his nerves and doubts, Zevran was glad he had made his warden smile. That somehow, even in a small way, he could make her happy, as improbably as it seemed. When Solona lent up to kiss Zevran's forehead, butterflies seemed to ridiculously flutter around his stomach.

"It would be hard to kiss you, if you weren't around," she retorted.

He laughed outright, only slightly regretting doing so, when the wound on his abdomen made itself known again. "You know... that is so very true, cariño."

Zevran watched, as Solona slightly titled her head to the side, as she often did when she was trying to work something out. Her perfect white teeth snagged her bottom lip, and gently nibbled it. It was obvious there was something on the warden's mind, or something that she wanted to say. It intrigued him, though time had taught Zevran that if he wanted to know, he was best waiting her out.

"You know, for what it's worth... I do want you to stay," Solona said.

She sounded a little hesitant, almost as if she was nervous of his reaction, which seemed preposterous. The fiery mage never shied away from voicing her opinion, ever. She was never rude or crass, but his warden was certainly no wilting flower. It was rather... novel to see her unsure, if not a little disconcerting.

"And stay I shall. I'm with you until the end, mi amora," Zevran assured her.

There was a moment of silence between them, before Solona slightly raised an eyebrow. It was then that Zevran realised what he had said, and how truthfully he had meant it. Panic gripped him then, wondering if he had revealed to much. If the warden would think it too forward, or too presumptuous.

"Provided you do not tire of me," he continued, his words tumbling out nervously. "Or I die. Or you die. But there you go..."

Somehow, Zevran thankfully stopped himself from speaking further. He felt like a fool, and Solona surely thought him as such. However, his warden merely smiled at him indulgently, before gently cupping his tattooed cheek. She placed the softest kiss Zevran could imagine on his lips, then rested her forehead against his.

"I can't predict our deaths... but I can promise you, I will never tire of you." Solona kissed him again lightly, before sitting back. "Are you okay?" she asked, suddenly serious. "And I don't mean your wound."

Another caress of her healing magic, rippled warmly through Zevran's body, almost as if his mage was trying to prove a point. As he thought about her question, a sigh escaped him, which prompted Solona to snuggle closer to him, her arm carefully snaking across his torso. Shutting his eyes, Zevran held his warden as close to his body as the eiderdown would allow.

"Believe it or not, despite my feelings for the Crows in general, I had no argument with Taliesen in specific," he explained. "He was a good friend, whose only real fault lay in his priorities. I had no wish to fight him, and truly I would have preferred had he not come after us at all. But what is done, is done."

"He was you lover?" Solona asked quietly.

"He was," Zevran admitted, fighting back another sigh. "But there is no need to relive the past. That is all behind me now."

She nodded, her red locks tickling his shoulder as she did. "If you want or need to talk about it... I'm always here for you, Zev."

Absent-mindedly, he kissed the top of her head. Something, some gut instinct, was telling him that Solona meant it. That she truly intended to stay by his side, to be there for him. That she was someone he could lean on, rely on. Zevran's throat became dry as he considered this. His heart beat just a little faster, making him feel light headed. Unable to help himself, Zevran pulled Solona impossibly closer, until she was nearly lying on top of him. His arms held her tightly to him. He had no real idea what he felt for the warden, only that he did. Right then, it was enough.

 


	57. A Rainy Morning (Amell PoV)

As a wet and dreary dawn broke over the grey stone buildings of Denerim, Solona slipped out of Eamon's estate with Leliana and Cadoc by her side. In truth, Solona would have chosen to have Morrigan with her as well, though the witch had cracked one baleful yellow eye at her, muttered something about early mornings and frogs, before rolling over and going back to sleep. Which left Solona and her fellow red head being escorted by her faithful mabari, and stepping out into the courtyard had both women pulling the hoods of their cloaks up. It wasn't the type of rain that was a deluge, but the fine ceaseless type that soaked you through before you realised it. Setting off at a brisk pace, they quickly made their way to Wade's Emporium. The blacksmith's assistant; Herren, was already setting up shop and wasted no time in selling her a newly finished Felon's Coat. Which was aptly named, as far as she was concerned, given who the intended recipient was, not to mention Leliana's fully endorsed of the armour. Thankfully, Zevran's Dalish gloves had miraculously survived the skirmish with the Crows unscathed, unlike the rest of his gear, which meant that she only had to pick up leggings and forearm guards from Gorim.

After dealing with the dwarven merchant, Solona stopped by Liselle, and indulged in purchasing some of the woman's fragrance oils, much to Leliana's delight and amusement. As breakfast time was fast approaching, she sent her fellow redhead back to the estate, promising she only had one more stop to make. Which was true, and quickly she ducked under the heavy carpets that heralded the stall in question, with Cadoc trotting proudly by her side. Upon seeing her, Master Ignacio paled slightly, though gave her a respectful bow. He seemed about to speak, perhaps to try and plead he had nothing to do with the Crow's attack yesterday, however the real reason for Solona's visit quickly interrupted him.

"Bella," the Antivan merchant called out jovially. "I did not expect you so early, though I am pleased to see a fine lady such as yourself recognises quality."

"Cesar," Solona smiled, warmly. "I have it on very good authority they are the best, and I knew you were the man for the job."

"But of course," the man chuckled. "And your friend yesterday was as pleasing to the eye as you are, which makes the transaction so much more agreeable."

"Antivans!" she grinned, rolling her eyes for effect.

As the merchant produced her order, the smell alone told Solona they were indeed the genuine article. In truth, the smell of the finely tanned leather was not as pungent as she had expected, but it was certainly stronger than any Ferelden made ware she had encountered. For good measure, Solona also purchased two dozen fire arrows for her bow, along with some concentrating and corrupter agents, that she'd noticed Zevran had been running low on. To Solona's surprise, as she was about to leave the stall, Ignacio tactfully caught her eye. She'd been wary of the Crow master ever since his degradation of Zevran, however, after completing a number of tasks for him, they hadn't encountered any other Crows. Until Taliesen, that was.

"I hear there was quite the skirmish in the backstreets yesterday," he stated, conversationally.

"Indeed?" Solona replied, nonchalantly.

"Truly," Ignacio continued. "An ambush that failed, I am told. Though I have it on good authority that _all_ bodies have been dealt with."

Solona blinked in surprise. If she was hearing him correctly, which she was sure she was, the Crow master was saying that he'd reported Zevran as dead. Ignacio had said that he'd 'perhaps turn the other way, if a Crow cell wanted help against them', but Solona had never dreamed his help would go so far. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that Cesar was struggling to hide a smile. In that moment, Solona wondered if these were also men, like Zevran, who had wanted to escape the life of a Crow. Was that why they were now based in Denerim?

"That is a relief," she replied at length, before moving to kiss Ignacio's cheek. "Thank you," she whispered in his ear, before ducking out of the stall and back into the rain.

 


	58. The Scent of Home (Zevran PoV)

Blearily, Zevran roused from his deep slumber, sighing contentedly. The sleep he'd just awoken from had been the most restful of his life. Lazily, he turned over to curl his arm around Solona to pull her close. Zevran's eyes shot open. The warden was not by his side, all the nights they had shared together, he had never once woken to find the fiery mage gone. Fear gripped him as he sat up, there was no sign of a struggle... which meant she had left of her own free will.

“Idiota!” Zevran murmured, angrily.

He buried his head in his hands, as he continued to curse himself. All these many months, he'd been fooling himself. Even last night, when he'd finally come to believe Solona was someone he could rely on, trust, perhaps even... At that moment, Zevran heard gentle footsteps padding along the corridor floor, ones that stopped outside the chamber door. Quietly, the door was slowly opened, to revealed a rain drenched warden. Who was carrying two, rather soggy looking packages as well as a sorry looking fabric pouch, that clinked as it swung from it's cord. Solona's russet cloak was also several shades darker than its usual hue, and Zevran could see rain drops still trickling off the hem, when she discarded it over the back of a nearby chair. All his concerns suddenly fled, as Solona turned a radiant smile towards him, and a very familiar scent assaulted his nose.

“Mmm... that smell,” he grinned. “That is Antivan Leather, isn't it?”

In reply, Solona's smile merely widened, as she crossed the room to join him back in bed. Without preamble, the warden set one of the packages on the floor along with the small pouch, before handing him the other. The odour that emanated from the brown paper wrapped parcel was distinct. Without hesitation, he discarded the paper and string.

“I'd know that smell anywhere,” Zevran stated.

For a long moment, he regarded the contents with slight amazement. Before he had set off for Ferelden... Maker, even before the death of Rinna, Zevran had coveted a pair of exquisite brown leather boots, made by the finest cobbler in Antiva City. He'd only mentioned them to Solona once, and that was many months ago. Now, he held a pair identical to the ones he had lusted for.

“I don't know how you found it,” Zevran chuckled, still amazed. “But thank you.”

Solona quirked an eyebrow at him. “I thought you'd have leapt out of bed to try them on,” she teased.

“But I haven't finished admiring them yet,” he retorted, before inhaling deeply. “Can you smell that? Like rotting flesh... just like back in Antiva City!”

“Only an assassin would find that something to be nostalgic about,” she teased.

Zevran tried to level his warden with a scowl, however, it seemed to have missed the mark somewhat. The sound of Solona's laughter filled the room, and warmth bloom in Zevran's chest. As much as he was enamoured with his new boots, they were not enough to drag his attention away from watching how the corner of Solona's eyes crinkled, or the way she covered her mouth as she tried to stop her giggles. Chuckling himself, Zevran wrapped one arm around the mage, and unceremoniously dragged her against him. The position they ended up in was far from comfortable, and both boots had thumped to the floor as Solona tried to wriggle out of his grasp. But Zevran held her tight, and soon they were arranged in a strange tangle of limbs and bedding. His warden's hair spread against the eiderdown like a fiery halo, and he couldn't help but smiling down at her, as he propped himself up on his forearms. Gently, he stroked her porcelain cheek, brushing an errant lock of hair out of the way as he did. Solona's hands crept up Zevran's naked arms, only stopping when her fingers could being to slowly card through his unbound hair. In that moment, as he simply gazed at his lover, certain words sat heavily on the tip of his tongue. It would be so easy to let them tumble out, and yet it was a thought that still scared Zevran to the core. Instead, he swallowed thickly.

“Now, if only you could find me a prostitute or two, a bowl of fish chowder, and a corrupt politician... I'd really feel like I was home,” he joked.

Half a smile pulled at Solona's luscious lips. “We're in Denerim, we could just head down to the Pearl. Wouldn't be hard to find prostitutes _and_ corrupt politicians there,” she stated, deadpan. “Fish chowder might be a little trickier though.”

Zevran's heart hammered in his chest. The fact that his warden had just accepted his throw-away comment, and not made a fuss about it... even Rinna would have glared daggers at him for the prostitute joke. Each day, Solona managed to surprise him more and more. Whether it as something major like saving his life yesterday, to laughing off his jokes like today... Zevran couldn't ignore the feeling that the fiery mage was someone special. And despite all his doubts, he had a feeling Solona Amell was someone worth taking a risk for. After another moment of drinking her in, Zevran leant down and captured her lips with his own.

 _'Te amo, mi corazón'_ he thought.

* * *

**Author's Note**

**'Te amo, mi corazón' translates as 'I love you, my heart' from Spanish.**

 


	59. Beginning of the End (Amell PoV)

After forcing down a hurried breakfast of barely warm porridge, Solona made her way to Arl Eamon's study. Truthfully, she'd felt like screaming when Teagan informed her that his brother wished to speak with her in private, but Solona knew it was her duty to see him. She just couldn't help having misgivings about the need for privacy. Not to mention Solona was still furious with Isolde's insult yesterday, and unlike Teagan, Eamon still hadn't grasped that she despised being called 'warden' all the time... she had a name, dammit! With all these thoughts tumbling in her mind, Solona nearly missed the dark haired, elven woman sitting nervously on a stool near the fireplace.

“Ah, Warden,” Arl Eamon greeted. “I trust you've made yourself comfortable.”

“The rooms _you_ have appointed us are lovely, thank you,” she replied, as politely as she could.

“I am glad,” Eamon stated, gesturing for her to take a seat near the hearth. “Though I am afraid it is likely to be your last rest for a while.”

A sardonic smile found it's way to Solona's lips. Rest wasn't exactly what she would call the fitful night she'd spent worrying about Zevran, even knowing that his wound was mended. However, Eamon didn't seem to notice her demeanour, and was already turning to introduce the only other person in the room.

“This is Erlina,” he introduced, seating himself on the remaining chair. “She's...”

“I am Queen Anora's handmaiden,” the woman interrupted in a thick, Orlesian accent. “She sent me here to ask for your help.”

“Or perhaps the young lady prefers to speak for herself,” Eamon stated, deadpan.

“As she should,” Solona quipped.

Truthfully, she was glad to see another woman act with a mind of her own. It was refreshing to say the least, especially in a repressive city like Denerim. However, the fact this Erlina worked for Loghain's daughter, set Solona on edge.

“Why would Anora ask us for help?” she queried, cautiously.

A sad look crossed Erlina's face. “The queen, she is in a difficult position. She loved her husband, no? And trusted her father to protect him. When he returns with no king, and only dark rumours, what is she to think?”

Solona took a moment to consider this. If what Erlina said was true, Anora had doubts about her father's role and motives in Cailan's death... currently, Solona was slightly inclined to believe the elf. There was something starkly honest in the ebony gaze she was being levelled with.

“She worries, no?” Erlina continued. “But when she tries to speak with him, he does not answer. He tells her: 'Not to trouble herself'.”

“Are you saying Anora believes Loghain killed Cailan?” Solona probed.

Erlina shook her head sadly. “My queen suspects she cannot trust her father. And Loghain, he is very subtle, no? But Rendon Howe, he is privy to all the secrets... and not so subtle. So she goes to Howe. A visit from the queen to the new arl of Denerim is only a matter of courtesy. And she demands answers.”

“I'm guessing that didn't go so well,” she stated.

“He calls her every sort of name. Traitor being the kindest, and locks her in the guest room,” the elf explained.

“And Loghain would allow that?” Solona asked, shocked.

Even Eamon had leant forward in his chair, apparently surprised by this revelation.

“King Cailan was like a son to him, and Loghain left him to die,” Erlina replied, through gritted teeth. “Does he love Anora more? Who can say?”

“What do you think?” she pressed, gently.

The tears that filled the elf's eyes where unexpected. “I think... her life is in danger. I heard Howe say she would make a greater ally dead than alive. Especially if her death could be blamed on Arl Eamon.”

“Would Loghain really kill his own daughter just to frame you?” Solona asked the arl.

“We may have no choice but to trust Anora,” Eamon replied. “The queen is well loved. If Loghain succeeded in pinning her death on me...” He sighed. “I'm not sure it's a risk we can afford to take.”

Solona nodded solemnly. “We have to help. But we need a plan.”

“I have some uniforms,” Erlina announced. “Arl Howe hires so many new guards every day, a few more will not cause much stir. I can show you to the servants entrance. We must slip in and out with my queen, before anyone is the wiser.”

“Agreed, though we will need time to prepare,” Solona replied.

“I will go ahead to Howe's estate. Please, meet me there as soon as you can,” the elf implored.

“Midday,” she stated. “Most of the servants and guards will be preoccupied with lunch about then.”

With that decided, both Erlina and Solona stood to take their leave, and Arl Eamon gave her a respectful nod as she left the room. Quickly, she walked the stone lined corridors headed towards the room that her and Zevran had taken as their own, only pausing briefly to smile or nod at the mainly elven staff that bustled about the place. Once she reached her chamber, Solona closed the door tightly behind her, and leaning her head against the lacquered surface, she let out a weary sigh. She couldn't shake the feeling something was about to go very wrong.

 


	60. A Giant Leap (Zevran PoV)

Shrouded in shadows cast by the roaring fireplace, Zevran silently watched as Solona sat in one of the plush armchairs that faced the heath. Even if he hadn't known that the warden's day had been a gruelling affair filled with private meetings with Eamon, Teagan and Alistair, the weary sigh that escaped her would have given it away. By Solona's feet, Cadoc whimpered in sympathy. Nervously, Zevran rubbed the golden, jewelled hoop earring he held between his thumb and index finger. He had no doubts that the mabari knew he was in the room, for Cadoc didn't miss a thing, especially when it came to protecting Solona. However, unlike Alistair, Zevran had somehow won the favour of the mabari, who seemed content to conspire with him, or at least keep his hiding secret. Despite his chest feeling like it was caught in a vice, Zevran took as deep an breath as his nerves allowed, before stepping out from the shadows' safety and crossed the room. He had warred with himself all day, about whether he should risk it all to tell Solona how he felt, or just be content to let things remain as they were. In the end, after much consideration... and a very surprisingly insightful conversation with a relatively sober Oghren... Zevran had come up with a compromise.

Gently, he lay a hand on Solona's shoulder, alerting her to his presence. A small smile tugged at his mouth, when she barely flinch. After the many months they had travelled together, Solona was getting harder and harder to surprise. He wasn't sure if the sights they witnessed on a daily basis was desensitising her, or if the warden had simply grown to accept, or even expect his presence around her. He couldn't help hoping it was the latter. Taking another steadying breath, Zevran held out the earring on the flat of his palm. The firelight sparkled off the polished gold hoop, and made the inset emeralds and diamonds sparkle like captured magic particles. Silently, he watched as Solona's eyes widened slightly, before he crouched down in front of her chair.

"Here, it seems an appropriate moment to give you this," Zevran said, quietly.

"Is that... an earring?" Solona queried, her brow furrowing slightly

"I acquired it on my very first job for the Crows. A Rivaini merchant prince. He was wearing a single, jewelled earring when I killed him. In fact, that's about all he was wearing..." Zevran admitted, feeling a little sheepish.

However, Solona's verdant eyes danced in amusement, and the corners of her berry red lips twitched in an effort not to smile. She made no move to reach for the earring, though shed laced her fingers with his free hand, that had been casually resting on her knee.

"I thought it was beautiful, and took it to mark the occasion," Zevran continued. "I've kept it ever since. And... I'd like you to have it."

The silence that followed seemed to last a life time, as he waited for her answered. An unexpected lump of worry formed in his throat, making it difficult to swallow. For her part, Solona simply sat, calmly regarding him. In retrospect, it was probably a mere heartbeat that Zevran waited for the gentle smile she gave him, but to him, it truly felt like a life time had passed.

"Thank you Zev, it's beautiful," Solona replied at last.

"Don't get the wrong idea about it," he said hurriedly, nervousness making him ramble. "You killed Taliesen, that means I'm free... at least for now. Feel free to sell it, wear it, whatever you like... it's really the least I could give you in return."

For the briefest moment, an unreadable look passed over Solona's beautiful face. But it was gone before Zevran could make sense of it. Subconsciously, he tightened the hold he had of her hand, silently berating himself for what he had just said. Before, he had worried Solona would be offended by how he came to acquire the earring, now Zevran feared he had ruined the gesture by his babbling attempt to protect himself and his feelings. However, the small knowing smile was pulling at Solona's lips again.

"So... _not_ a token of affection then?" she queried, raising an eyebrow.

"I... er..." he stammered, whilst his brain screamed: _'YES!'_

Zevran's heart began to beat faster, and he could have sworn his palms were beginning to sweat. Nothing he could think of, even battling the dragon outside of Haven, was as daunting as this. All he wanted was to admit that yes, the earring was a token of affection. Actually a token of something even more substantial. It was the only thing that Zevran had ever considered truly his, something he had kept hidden from the Crows in order to keep hold of it. He hadn't been lying when he'd told Solona it was the least he could give her, for what he owed her, for how he felt about her... however, it was the only thing that was _his_ to give to his wonderful mage.

"Look, just... just take it," Zevran almost pleaded, hoping he didn't sound as desperate as he felt. "It's... it's meant a lot of me, but so have..." He stopped himself, just before the words he was frightened to say tumbled out. "So has what you've done. Please, take it."

For a long weighted moment, Solona merely regarded him quietly. Her verdant eyes trained on him, and only him. It was a look Zevran noticed the warden shared with Morrigan, a look that made the recipient feel as if the mage could read their thoughts. He shifted uncomfortably, before another slight smile formed on Solona's lips.

"If you are sure, I am happy to," she replied, quietly.

The relief Zevran felt was palpable. Even though he was sure Solona knew the earring meant more than what he admitted. Still, she had accepted it, and Zevran gladly placed the jewelled earring into her hand. Though he hoped Solona hadn't noticed how his own hand trembled slightly as he did. Zevran had no idea how to voice what he actually felt for his warden, and he was grateful she hadn't pushed for a deeper explanation.

"I have no better way to say it," he admitted, honestly. "Thank you."

 


	61. Serve Yourself (Amell PoV)

Solona shuddered. Who in their right mind had the door to the dungeon leading from their bedchamber? Rendon Howe apparently, just proving how twisted he was, and the dungeon itself was the stuff of nightmares. Blood marred every wall, floor and surface they had come across so far... and that wasn't including any from the guards they'd killed. Subconsciously, Solona touched the jewelled earring that hung in her right ear. She'd been surprised when Zevran offered it to her, and Solona had the feeling it was more meaningful than the rogue let on. Regardless, she was touched by the gesture, and feeling the weight of the hoop in her ear was oddly comforting. Out of the corner of her eyes, Solona noticed Zevran smile in her direction, and she knew he had caught her in the act. She returned his smile with a small one of her own, before taking a steadying breathe and pushing open the next door that barred their path, expecting to find the worst.

"What? Who goes there?" called a male voice.

Presuming it belonged to a guard, Alistair and Zevran were the first to burst through into the gloomy hallway, quickly followed by Solona and Morrigan who simultaneously readied fire spells. However, instead of a horde of guards waiting for them, they were greeted by the sight of a lone guardsman being strangled by a prisoner in the cell behind him. Out of pity, Solona quickly tossed Duncan's dagger at the man's chest, ending his life. Zevran had an appreciative hum of approval at her improved aim, for it was something he'd been coaching her on for many weeks. Cautiously, she approached the dead guard, giving the prisoner a quick glance as she did. She knelt, making sure to keep out of reach of the bars, just in case, and retrieved her beloved dagger. Unceremoniously, she wiped it on her black, leather leggings, before sheathing it. Then she set about riffling through the guard's belt pouches, hoping to find a key. Truth be told, Solona had the feeling that anyone unfortunate enough to end up in Howe's dungeon was probably wrongly imprisoned anyway, and she couldn't fault the man behind the bars for killing his jailer.

"I thank you for creating such a distraction, stranger," the prisoner stated, in an accent that reminded Solona a little of Leliana. "I have been waiting days for the opportunity."

At that, Solona looked up at him, taking in his appearance. Unsurprisingly, he had been stripped of his possession, leaving him in just his undergarments. Solona tried to ignore the impressive physique, one that spoke of a life as a soldier, and met his grey eyes. They were surprisingly friendly, giving their meeting location. She would have guessed his age was close to Duncan's. His hair was black, coming down to his collar bone, and his beard gave the impression that it was usually closely trimmed. He was quite attractive, in a grizzled way.

"Why? The accommodations are so cosy here," Solona joked, finally finding the key.

Without hesitation, she unlocked the cell door. Wincing at the loud creek the hinges gave, as the metal grate was shoved open. Silently, she prayed that no more guards were nearby to hear it. Even if this man was a soldiers, as he appeared to be, she doubted his chances with no armour and after suffering Howe's hospitality.

The prisoner chuckled, though it sounded a little rasping. "Do you think you could..."

He gestured to the guard's armour, kneeling down to start removing it. Though as he did so, he let out a pained gasped. Instantly, Solona was by his side, her hands glowing with healing magic even before she had touched him.

"Zev, think you can strip that blighter?" she asked, nodding towards the dead guard.

"Of course, mi amora," he agreed, quickly setting about his task.

It wasn't long before Solona had healed the worst of the man's wounds, sufficient enough that he could at least dress in the armour, that fortunately fit quite well. Morrigan silently handed him a health potion, which he drank in a few gulps. It was at that moment, that Alistair returned from his self-decided watch post at the end of the corridor.

"It looks fairly clear," he informed.

"Alistair? Is that you?" the prisoner asked.

Solona glanced between the two men, as did Morrigan. Zevran, on the other hand, merely raised an eyebrow.

"Who...? Wait, I do know you," Alistair said, sounding a little less confused than he looked. "You were at my joining."

"Friend of yours?" Solona asked, looking at her fellow warden expectantly.

"He's one of us," the warrior explained, coming to stand right beside her. "A warden from Orlais. Jader, I think. Or was it Montsimmard?" He shook his head, before regarding the freed prisoner. "I'm afraid I don't remember your name."

"How unexpected," Morrigan muttered, in her usually scathing way.

Solona barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Alistair could be a bit forgetful, places and names had not been his strong suit so far on their journey, it was why he was forbidden from reading the map. Even Oghren with a hangover had more navigational sense than the ex-Templar did. The freed prisoner... warden, also seemed unsurprised by Alistair's admission. There was humour in his grey eyes, as he regarded Solona.

"I am Riordan, senior warden of Jader, but born and raised in Highever," he stated, offering her a bow. "And glad to be home."

"I'm sure you were thrilled with your welcoming party, no?" Zevran quipped.

For some reason, Solona suddenly remembered the papers she had... liberated from Howe's bureau. They bore the seal of the Grey Wardens, but since all Fereldan wardens; bar herself and Alistair, had died at Ostagar, she wondered if they belonged to Riordan. Carefully, Solona pulled the folded parchment out of her belt pouch, and offered them to him.

"Are these papers yours?" she asked.

A surprised smile lit up Riordan's face. "Yes," he replied, sounding relieved. "These are my records. The names of the dead I could identify at Ostagar, and what I could find of Duncan's recruitment records. As well as copies of the joining ritual I rescued from out Denerim vault... Those should never be seen by any outside eyes, but I trust in their encryption."

"Joining ritual, does that mean you could induct more wardens?" Alistair asked, eagerly.

Riordan sighed. "Would that I could, for Fereldan sorely needs them. The supplies needed should have been in the vault, but it was gone. I can only imagine someone took it out, and Loghain either confiscated or destroyed it."

"Loghain," Alistair almost spat, his hatred clear.

Solona lay a hand on his shoulder. "He will pay," she said, quietly and solemnly.

"From the rumours flying around Denerim, removing him from the throne is your plan, no?" Riordan queried.

"It is," Solona replied. "Though there are more pressing concern. Have you seen Howe?"

"I saw him go further into the dungeons, he may still be there," he replied, a hard glint entering his eyes.

She silently regarded him for a moment. "How _did_ Howe capture you?"

"With an offer of hospitality and a poisoned chalice. I was fool enough to think Loghain didn't yet know who I was," Riordan explained.

"We've cleared the way. Will you be alright leaving here?" Solona asked, concerned.

Poison had a way of lingering in a person's system, and without knowing what poison he was drugged with, it was almost impossible to know it's lasting affects. She wanted him out of the estate, and to relative safety. Preferably somewhere they would be able to find him again. Solona had questions she would like to ask, and she also wanted Zevran to see if he could figure out what poison was used by whatever symptoms Riordan could hopefully describe.

"I should be," he nodded.

"We've been staying with Arl Eamon, at his estate," Alistair stated. "If you need a place to stay, I'm sure he'd make you welcome."

"At Arl Eamon's then," Riordan smiled, giving them a friendly nod.

"I'd advise you speak to the Arl or the Bann," Zevran supplied.

"Yes... Lady Isolde is a shrew," Morrigan agreed.

Riordan chuckled. "I thank you for your advice." Before he left, he grasped hold of Solona's shoulder. "Good luck... sister."

* * *

** Author's Note **

**For those who may be wondering, the chapter title is inspired by the bottle of warden alcohol you can find in DA: Inquisition that bears Riordan's name.**

 


	62. Confessions (Zevran PoV)

Without question, Zevran had followed Solona's request and picked the locks on every cell door they had come across. He wasn't exactly surprised, he'd seen her concerned gaze as she regarded her fellow warden; Riordan. She was simply the type of person who had to help, and he admired that about her. As they'd traversed the dank corridors of the dungeon, they had released anyone they'd come across. Some had injuries so grievous that they had to be put out of their misery, and Zevran had granted them their peace, so Solona didn't have to. Others had been... not fortunate, for what they had suffered at the hands of Howe, even the Crows wouldn't have dreamt up... but at least able to make it out of the dungeons alive. There was Oswyn, the noble friend of a missing soldier from Ostagar. Howe had imprisoned and tortured him, to save him revealing that Loghain told his men to quit the field. And Ser Irminric, the Templar who had been charged with bringing in Solona's old friend Jowan. But were the mage had been sent to poison Arl Eamon, the Templar had been on the receiving end of Howe's hospitality. Zevran had seen the tears brimming in Solona's eyes, as she had healed him the best she could, before he staggered towards the exit.

They'd also encountered Rexel, another survivor from Ostagar. When the man had revealed he'd drank darkspawn blood to survive, Zevran had watch Solona and Alistair exchange worried glances. His own mind went back to the tainted dwarf; Ruck. He knew that his warden still worried about the ghoul, and he'd honestly suspected that she would simply let Rexel go, as she had with Ruck. However, Alistair had stepped in and mercifully ended the man's life, but not before Solona had promised to let his family know he wasn't coming home. The last cell Zevran unlocked was that of a fellow elf named Soris. His story touched him the most, not because of a sense of shared heritage, but because of how harrowing the tale was. Even before he'd met Solona, Zevran would have been able to understand the man's need to rescue his betrothed. Even without figuring out what sort of man this... Vaughan Kendall was. He didn't say it out right, but Zevran decided that if he were to ever meet that noble, he would do Soris a favour and end the bastard's life. As fate would have it, providence was on Zevran's side. Just when they were about to leave the cell block, the sound of banging and muffled shouting could be heard through a heavy oak door. At Solona's silent nod, he set about picking the lock. Before long, the door swung open, revealing a smaller set of cells. Only one was occupied, and the man contained was the only prisoner they had encountered so far to be wearing clothes. Fine clothes it appeared, despite the grime and how dishevelled the man was.

"Who's there? Stay away," a prisoner called out. "You can't do this to me. I'll have you flayed! I'm the Arl of Denerim!"

"And I'm the queen of Antivan," Solona replied, glibly.

Zevran fought back the urge to laugh, though a smirk pulled at his lips all the same. He wasn't sure why his warden had opted to use his homeland in her retort, but it was oddly endearing to him. The fact that she subconsciously touched the earring he gave her, that she seemed to wear proudly, just added to the warm feeling that radiated from his chest.

"I'm Vaughan Kendall, heir to the arling of Denerim! It's true," the man said. "Too many of our troops were lost at Ostagar. When the riots started, Howe came with his men to reinforce the garrison here. Or that's what he claimed. As soon as I let him into the palace, he threw me in here. 'One more victim of the elven uprising,' he said. Let me out of here! I'll do anything."

Anger began to coil in Zevran's gut. This was the man Soris had told them about, the noble he'd decided would meet their end by his daggers. He moved close to Solona who had walked towards the cell, and stood close enough to speak into her left ear.

"He is the Arl's son that Soris mentioned," Zevran prompted.

"In my room, there's a lockbox full of sovereigns. Free me, and the key is yours," Vaughan bargained, glaring at Zevran.

Solona's green eyes turned to him, an evident question in her gaze.

"We don't need his key to gain access to the gold," he assured, confidently.

"Bloody knife ear," Vaughan spat. "How can you let such vermin near you?" he demanded of Solona.

Zevran would have ended the bastard's life there and then, however, the warden beat him to it. Moving faster than he had known her able to do, Solona closed the distance between herself and the bars, grabbing the collar of Vaughan's tunic as she did.

"You're speaking about the man I love," she hissed.

There was a gasp from Alistair, who stood with Morrigan guarding their exit. Though Zevran wasn't sure if it was at Solona's words, or her actions that surprised the ex-Templar. For in the next heartbeat, she had drawn Rinna's dagger, and sunk the blade deep into Vaughan's gut. Morrigan snorted at the noble's shocked gasp. Zevran was more than a little stunned himself. Though even he was unsure if it was Solona's words or her actions that surprised him the most. The warden wasn't one to take another's life easily, so what she'd done was far out of character. However, to hear she, the most dazzling woman he had ever met, felt so strongly about him... it was breath taking. To see her defend him so viscously was both endearing and satisfying, as well as utterly arousing. Zevran couldn't help his smirk returning, as he watched Solona twist the blade before she pulled it free. Almost nonchalantly, she wiped the blood and gore on her leggings, before sheathing the dagger.

"I think we are done here," she declared, not quite meeting his eye.

 


	63. Save the Queen (Amell PoV)

Solona couldn't decided if things had gotten better or worse. They'd managed to free all the prisoners from Howe's dungeon. Well... all bar one. In truth, she was having a hard time feeling guilty that she'd taken a life in such a cold and callous manner. But every part of her screamed that Vaughan had deserved the punishment she dished out, honestly, Solona thought she'd been a little lenient. They'd also managed to deal with Howe himself, Morrigan freezing him and Alistair landing the killing blow, whilst she and Zevran had mopped up the guards. They even managed to release the captured queen, and Solona had been hard pressed not to chuckle at how uncomfortable Anora looked in the ill fitting armour she wore. It seemed they'd been on the home straight, just mere feet from freedom... until Ser Cauthrien; Loghain's second in commander, barred the exit with a contingency of soldiers.

"Warden, in the name of the regent, I am placing you under arrest for the murder on Rendon Howe and his men-at-arms. Surrender, and you may be shown mercy," the warrior announce.

Beside her, Zevran tensed and Solona knew he was already reaching for his throwing daggers. Subtly, she tapped his boot with her foot, causing him to glance at her. She shook her head, keeping her eyes on Loghain's guards the enter time. Solona had no desire for anymore bloodshed, especially if it could be avoided, she also didn't want to alert their enemy to the queen's presence. Silently, she took a deep breath.

"You do not know the whole story," Solona said, calmly. "But I will stand down."

Behind her, she heard a gasp from Erlina, and Morrigan muttered: "Amell!" barely under her breath. Zevran was almost glaring at her, the look a mixture of disbelief and worry, but also what seemed like betrayal in his striking eyes. Anora remained silent, though Alistair had no such compulsion.

"Why stop now?" he demanded. "Cauthrien is all that stands between us and freedom."

"Are you sure this is what you wish?" Erlina also asked, quietly.

Solona shook her head again. "Killing them just reinforces Loghain's lies about the wardens," she sighed, wearily.

"I am surprised this ended peacefully," Cauthrien stated, her tone sombre.

Quietly, Solona regarded the other woman for a moment, taking in the thin press of her lips, and the fact the soldier wouldn't quite meet her eye. She had to wonder if Cauthrien was also doubting the regent, because the warrior didn't seem too happy to be taking them in. And if she had merely wanted a fight, Solona was under no dissolution that they'd have been engaged in battle the moment they entered the hallway.

"Will you give me moment?" she asked.

The question caused Cauthrien's eyes to snap back to Solona, and after a moment's pause, the warrior nodded. Without preamble, she unclipped her daggers and bow, silently handing them to Zevran, who accepted them without comment. His gaze looked less betrayed, though he was still frowning at her. Reluctantly, Solona unfastened the earring he had given her, placing it carefully in his waiting hand.

"Will you keep this safe for me?" she asked, trying to keep her voice even.

Mutely he nodded, though subtly squeezed her fingers before stepping away from her. To Solona's dismay, he didn't look at her again. She chanced a glance at Morrigan, who merely nodded solemnly to her, understand her silent request to keep an eye on Zevran. Silently, she stepped away from her friends, surprised when Erlina gently grabbed her hand, and offered a quick curtsey of thanks.

"Bring the warden," Cauthrien instructed the lesser guards, sounding almost despondent. "Loghain doesn't care about the rest."

"Two wardens," Alistair announced, stepping up beside her.

Solona turned a questioning gaze to him. She had hoped he'd have escaped with the rest, especially considering the plan Arl Eamon had for him. Though it seemed the ex-Templar had very different plans. He shook his head, meeting her gaze unwaveringly.

"You're not facing this alone," he stated, before handing his sword and shield to Morrigan.

 


	64. Green Mile (Zevran PoV)

Disgusted, Zevran stormed out of the estate. All the arl had whittered on about had been Alistair. He hadn't cared that Solona had also been captured, and being a mage, was more at risk. It was clear that Eamon didn't care at all that the _only_ person doing anything to stop the blight was at Loghain's mercy, he was only concerned about the king's bastard! It made him sick. As for that queen... Solona was worth a thousand of her, and no-one cared that she'd all but sacrificed herself to free the high-born shrew. No... that wasn't true, and it was unfair. Cadoc was faithfully trotting by Zevran's side, knowing his mistress was in trouble. That warden; Riordan had also been concerned, though still too weak from Howe's hospitality to offer any aid, and Teagan had looked positively aghast, whilst demanding that they do something to help _both_ Solona and Alistair. He'd even mentioned the fiery redhead first, so perhaps he cared more about people than positions after all.

Still, it wasn't enough, and their own companions were letting Solona down. Sure, most of them had seemed concerned, and Zevran had a sneaky suspicion that Morrigan was concocting some potion or other to blow up the gates of Fort Dracon, but still it wasn't enough. And Wynne... Zevran had long ago accepted the wizened mage didn't like him, but he thought she cared more about Solona than seeing her as _just_ a warden. For Wynne had only stressed the need to free both her and Alistair, purely on the basis of needing to stop the blight. It made him furious. As did Sten, Leliana and Oghren... even Morrigan seemed far too content to simply wait. To wait until Eamon had pulled his head out of his rear and come up with a plan, to wait until it was too late and Solona would be dead.

That thought stopped Zevran in his tracks, and he leant against the rugged stone wall, with the earring he'd given Solona tightly clutched in his hand. He closed his eyes, tight, hating the unfamiliar sting that pricked at them. It had... hurt, when Solona had removed the earring, but he understood why she had done it. She didn't want Loghain's men getting their hands on it, just like her weapons. And the look Solona had given him, when she had placed the small hoop in his hand, had constricted Zevran's chest in a way he couldn't explain. He still couldn't believe she had done what she did, simply handing herself over. Even Alistair had been itching for a fight, for Maker's sake, and the ex-Templar was usually as docile as a lamb. But no... Solona had just given herself up, without a fight, stating she didn't want to add credence to Loghain's lies. She knew, _knew_ , what would be waiting for her and she'd still gone. He still couldn't believe Solona could be so stupid, so thoughtless, so... selfless. She was going to be the death of him, and if any harm had come to her, Zevran intended to take down as many of the cabrónes with him as he could.

"Flaming nug-humpers, elf! You walk fast," an unmistakable voice exclaimed.

Reluctantly, Zevran opened his eyes and regarded the dwarf. "Oghren..."

"Look elf, I know you love her. And don't go trying to deny it." The dwarf fixed Zevran with a bleary eyed stare. "She the first and last thing you think about in a day, your chest is tight whenever she isn't with you, you feel physically sick at the thought of her being hurt, and your judgement is screwed every which way. I know... I've been there."

Silently, Zevran simply regarded his companion, and Cadoc whined where he sat at his feat. It was the most coherent and thought provoking thing the dwarf had ever said, and it was uncomfortably accurate... he _was_ in love with Solona. Strictly speaking, Zevran had realised that when he'd given her the earring, but hearing it from someone like Oghren. The malodorous dwarf was barely sober enough to string two words together most of the time, if it was obvious to him, then it was surely obvious to everyone else. Then again, he had tracked his estranged wife to the Deep Roads, only to lose Branka to her own madness. If anyone would understand, Zevran supposed it would be Oghren. However, that still didn't explain why he was here. Though before he had a chance to ask, footsteps could be heard rounding the corner of the alley they were stood him. Deftly, Zevran slipped Solona's earring into the concealed pouch beneath his chest piece, and went for his daggers. Oghren simply laughed. For a moment, he considered slicing the dwarf's throat. Solona needed help, and he was stood their laughing when Maker-knows-who was baring down on them. Then, when Cadoc gave a welcoming yap, Zevran realised what had amused Oghren so much. Standing at the far side of the alley, was Morrigan, Leliana and Sten.

"You cannot storm Fort Dracon unprepared," the Qunari announced. "You need a plan."

In truth, Zevran hadn't even realised he had reached the prison, until it was pointed out to him. Which uncomfortably proved Oghren's point about his judgement being compromised. Still, he managed to force a smirk as he regarded Sten, readying a quip about 'understatement of the year' award.

* * *

** Author's Note ** **  
Cabrónes means bastards in Spanish.**

 


	65. Captured (Amell PoV)

With a groan, Solona forced her eyes to open, well... her left eye. Her right remained stubbornly swollen shut. She shivered. Clad only in her small clothes, the cold of the stone floor was seeping into her body. Though in retrospect, Solona was glad she at least had them on. The way the guards had leered and groped at her, she had a feeling it was a very close thing. Bile rose in her throat, and she gagged on reflex at the memory.

"Oh, you're awake. I was starting to worry."

Solona blinked. It took her longer to recognise the voice as Alistair's, than she care to admit. It made her wonder if the beating she'd taken had cracked her skull. The guards had certainly managed to break several of her ribs, if the way her chest protested when Alistair helped her sit up, was anything to go by. She regarded him, through bleary vision, taking in the cuts and bruises that littered his well defined body. It didn't come as much surprise that his state of undress was equal to hers. His armour would sell for an excellent price, after all.

"Are you alright?" Solona whispered, her throat feeling parched.

She knew she hadn't screamed during her beating and manhandling, she'd been determined to refuse her captors the satisfaction. And though she wasn't sure how long they'd been held captive so far, Solona knew it had been many hours since they had drank anything. Which was probably the cause of the gritty feeling in her throat. It didn't help that the lingering effect of a Templar's smite still made her head throb, and rendered her powers useless. Vaguely, Solona mused that she would dearly love to know how Loghain had acquired the services of a Templar in the first place.

"I've been worse," Alistair replied almost glibly, gingerly putting an arm around her shoulder. "I'll be better when we get out of here."

It took a great deal of effort for Solona to smile at her fellow warden. She was still a little annoyed that he'd insisted on throwing himself on the proverbial sword with her, when she'd surrendered. Though she was utterly relieved to have him with her, all the same. In the back of her mind, Solona wondered if she should feel uncomfortable, snuggling into his gentle embrace, in the state of undress they were both in. But his body heat helped to chase some of the chill away from her bones, and ease some of the throbbing ache from her battered limbs. However, Solona valiantly tried to block out the scent of their drying blood mixing with the other repugnant smells that permeated the whole prison.

"You think you're getting out of here?" said a voice from the other side of the bars.

Panic immediately gripped Solona's heart, and her whole body tensed. In that moment, she believed it was a guard come for her again, one intent on finishing the abuse they had started earlier. However, it proved to be another prisoner, who was as undressed and battered as they were, his left eye was a ring of angry black and purple bruises. He leant against the stout iron bars that separated their cells, and regarded them critically, but not unkindly.

"Zevran will come," she replied, confidently.

"Are you sure?" Alistair asked, not sounding convinced.

If her damaged face would have let her, Solona would have scowled at her friend. Damn, if she had the energy, she would have probably shouted at him. She knew Alistair still didn't fully trust Zevran, even if he was more subtle about it than Wynne was, but Solona really hoped he would have accepted her partner by now. She winced involuntarily at the thought. Partner. Lover definitely, but was Zevran her partner? Solona truly wished she could call him that. She had stopped trying to deny to herself that she loved the assassin a while ago, but she still had no idea how he felt about her. Though there really wasn't a doubt in her mind that he would be trying to form a plan to rescue them. Questionable career not withstanding, Zevran was a very loyal soul. However, Solona didn't know if he viewed their relationship as anything more than friends with benefits. The earring that he'd given her hinted that he did, but she just couldn't be sure.

"Just one person? Assaulting Fort Drakon?" the other prisoner queried, forcing Solona out of her thoughts. "Good luck with that."

"There will be others too," she said, managing a tiny smile. "Oghren is probably helping to lead the charge."

Her comment drew a small snort of humour from Alistair. "Maker help us!”

 


	66. The Famous Broma Brothers (Zevran PoV)

Leliana's thieving skills would forever be legendary in Zevran's mind. How his fellow rogue had managed to appropriate their disguises so quickly, he would never be sure. The fact that they actually fit, and well, was something else that baffled him. As did the way Oghren had barely grumbled about having to exchanged beloved armour, for the bright orange and rich red velvet of their new clothing. It spoke volumes of how the cantankerous dwarf viewed the two wardens... though Zevran had a sneaky suspicion it was more Oghren's regard for Solona that was compelling him to help, rather than what he thought of Alistair. The ex-Templar was a nice enough fellow, but he certainly didn't have the same compassion and unceasing kind nature that the fiery mage did.

Zevran's mind had been so preoccupied by these thoughts, that he was only faintly aware that they'd reached the inside entranceway of Fort Drakon. The guards on the perimeter gate and the first set of doors, had waved them through without incident. He nodded politely to a passing Chantry mother, and was thankful that both Leliana and Morrigan were disguised as lay-sisters nearby. The fact that the witch had deigned to scrub her face and don the hideous Chantry robes, was yet another example of the type of loyalty that Solona inspired. To complete their back up, Sten and Cadoc waited by the outer gates of the fort. Ready and alert, in case back up would be required when they fled with Solona and Alistair. Hopefully it was just a precaution, rather than a necessity. But since they had no idea what the wardens were being subjected to, Zevran was glad of their assistance.

"And what are you supposed to be?" a guard snarled, when they approached the next set of doors.

"We Ser, are performers from the Antivan City Circus. The famous Broma Brothers! Surely, you have heard of us?" Zevran stated.

In truth, he was a little surprised that was what rolled off his tongue. True, their disguises were certainly bright enough that they could pass as circus performers, and his rogue training would certainly allow him to demonstrate some acrobatic skills if required, though he had no idea what Oghren would do to pull off the ruse. Other than fight and belch, Zevran wasn't sure if the dwarf had any other talents. Still, what was said, was said. And to be fair to Oghren, he didn't even bat an eye and being pronounced as a circus act.

"You don't look like brothers," the same guarded stated, his voice having a gormless quality to it.

"How can you say that?" Zevran asked, sounding affronted. "Are your eyes failing? Look at us! We are twins... not identical of course, but twins, nonetheless."

"I'm the pretty one," Oghren stated, deadpan.

Zevran was hard pressed not to laugh at that, though he was unable to stop the corner of his lip twitching in his effort not to smile. Oghren's comment and given him an idea that could work. Maybe acrobatics might be out of the question, but perhaps they could pull off a comedy routine. The dwarf did have a dry humour, and a surprisingly quick wit, for someone who was mostly drunk every waking minute.

"Right... so what are you doing here?" the guard asked.

"We are here for the commander of this fine establishment," Zevran replied. "It is his birthday, no?"

"It's not the commander's birthday, is it?" a second guard asked, looking mildly worried.

"Forgetting a man's birthday, that's harsh," Oghren muttered, shaking his head.

"Don't tell me you forgot!" Zevran exclaimed. "What kind of terrible man at arms are you? No doubt he is crushed. It is fortunate indeed, that the regent sent us to entertain him."

"Well, wait over there," the second guard instructed, pointing to a small anti-room. "I'll get the captain."

Silently, Zevran and Oghren went to wait in the small chamber. Tricking guards never proved too difficult, most where imbeciles, employed simply to stand around and looking halfway menacing. Captains and those of higher rank could prove a little more tricky, since they were usually only advanced from common guard after showing some brains and common sense. So confronting the captain could prove a little more challenging, though he was impressed with how Oghren was playing along so far.

"There! Not so difficult was it?" Zevran inquired, once he was certain they were not being eavesdropped.

"Heh... easy for you to say, elf," Oghren chuckled. "These clown pants are riding up something fierce."

Before Zevran could reply, or think of something to banish that image out of his mind, a third guard joined them in the anti-room. His armour gleamed in the flickering candlelight, and he held himself more erect than any of the previous guards they'd encountered so far. Which presumably meant he was the captain.

"All right, what's this about?" the man asked.

"We are the famous... Broma Brothers, of the Antivan City Circus!" Zevran announce. "Surely you are expecting us. We have travelled here at great expense to perform at the particular request of Teryn Loghain."

"Never heard of you," the captain stated.

Zevran feigned shock. "What?! Do you hear this, brother?" he asked, turning to Oghren. "What sort of uncivilised country is this? We have performed for archons and empresses!"

"For the beautiful daughters of noble households..." Oghren grinned, lecherously.

"To... to have travelled such a distance as a personal favour to Loghain, only to be turned away at the door by some uncultured soldier! Unthinkable!"

"Oh for Andraste's sake... fine!" the captain huffed. "Go perform in the main hall, I don't care."

As the guard stomped off, Zevran and Oghren exchanged glances, before discretely checking the weapons they had concealed under their doublets. There was not doubt in his mind that he would be perfectly capable of fighting with the daggers, he had done so on many occasions for the Crows. However, Zevran was concerned for his companion, he'd only ever seen the dwarf fight with a great axe. It was rather imperative for them to find a more suitable weapon, should they need to fight. Pushing the thought to back of his mind, Zevran set out side by side with Oghren, subconsciously patting the hidden pouch that concealed Solona's earring. He wasn't entirely sure why he had brought it, but he knew he needed to give it back to the mage as soon as possible. It didn't take long for them to cross the expanse of stone floor that ran the length of the next great room, and Zevran critically studied the groups of guards that stood loitering around the hall as they passed, gauging how well equipped they were, and what skills each would possess. Once again, their progress was blocked by a solid oak door, though this time only a single female guard barred the way.

"It's just one officer," Oghren whispered, before pausing for a moment. "By a room full of guards, in a fortress full of them." The dwarf shrugged. "What could possibly go wrong?"

"All yours then," Zevran replied, already eyeing the ballistas that dotted the room.

"State your business," the guard demanded, as the dwarf approached her.

Activating his stealth abilities, Zevran began to creep away from the pair, though not before he heard Oghren state: "Nothing... unless being hot counts." He rolled his eyes at his friends attempt at seduction, it was woeful. Silently, he reached the nearest weapon, and managed to arm and fire the missile without alerting the guards to his presence. Which was fortunate for him, but worrying for the security of the fort. It seemed they truly did employ imbeciles. With the guards distracted, Zevran and Oghren slipped into the next corridor, and firmly shut and bolted the door behind them. The last thing they needed was to worry about a back attack.

"And this is where we dispense with charm and subterfuge," Zevran stated, drawing his daggers. "These guards will know we have no business here."

 


	67. Rescued (Amell PoV)

There was a clink as the door to their cell was unlocked, and Solona tensed in fear, dreading what was about to happen. Then, she forced herself to scramble to her feet, though kept in a low crouch. Mentally, she scolded herself. She wasn't some timid circle mage anymore, she was a warden. And though her powers where still drained, she did have the skills that Zevran had diligently taught her. Solona knew she wouldn't be able to put up much of a fight, not with how battered and injured she was, but she was determined to make the guards lives as difficult as possible. Alistair had also followed her lead, crouching down into a position that he could make a charge at anyone who would enter the cell. It was probably suicide, but so was waiting around for whatever Loghain had planned for them. However, relief swept over her, the moment she saw Zevran and Oghren framed by the doorway. They were both dressed in garishly bright clothing, with blood splattering them entirely, and neither had ever looked so magnificent. Solona wasn't surprised to see Zevran holding dual daggers, though she couldn't help but wonder how Oghren had managed to acquire a great maul, as she seriously doubted the guards had simply let the berserker walk in with it. Unceremoniously, Solona sank to the floor, her aching and bruised legs refusing to hold her up any longer. She bowed her head, her matted red hair falling in front of her face, obscuring the damaged from her friends. Irrationally, she felt like she had let them down.

"Ancestors! If you look like that, I dread to see the other person," Oghren guffawed, in his usual manner.

He set down some clothing in front of her, ones that suspiciously looked like her own black leather. There was also a large blue tunic, something Solona was very grateful for, as she doubted she would be able to tie her usual corseted top with the way her rids protested. The dwarf also dumped a pile of clothing in front of Alistair. Unsurprisingly, it wasn't his armour, but what looked liked the clothes of a farm labourer. It wouldn't exactly offer him protection, but it would give him some modesty back, and at least they were free from blood.

"Oghren, can you open the next cell?" she asked, quietly.

From beneath her hair, Solona watched as the dwarf regarded her, then eyed the other prisoner before nodding. She thought she heard him mutter: "Whatever you want" as he went to do as she bid, but she wasn't entirely sure. Gingerly, Solona began trying to dress, though was unable to stop the hiss of pain escaping her, as she tried to tug the oversized tunic over her head. It seemed her shoulder had also been damaged, though she hadn't noticed before. Immediately, Zevran was kneeling by her side.

"Allow me, mi amora," he whispered.

Solona kept her head bent the entire time that Zevran helped her dress in the tunic, and also when he carefully helped her stand. She was embarrassingly shaky on her feet, her battered legs protested holding up her weight. Solona couldn't really figure out how she would manage to pull on her leggings, but thankfully the tunic _did_ reach her mid thighs, so it wasn't much of a necessity. Especially since there was evidently no chance she would be able to fight in the condition she was in. Gently, Zevran helped keep her stable, as he slowly brushed the hair from her face. Solona tensed, fighting the urge to flinch as he revealed the damage to her face. He looked furious, as he regarded her, and Solona's heart sank. Without a word he picked her up, bridal style, and cradled her to his body. She watched as his jaw tensed as he noticed the bruises on her legs, ones that were evidently finger and hand shaped. A wave of nausea washed over Solona, and she shut her good eye tightly, trying to block out just how angry her lover looked.

 


	68. Aftermath (Zevran PoV)

Zevran paced like a caged animal outside the door to their room. Beyond the stout oak panel, Morrigan and Leliana diligently tended to Solona, with Wynne aiding Alistair further down the corridor. Both wardens had been in bad shape when they had been rescued, but it seemed Solona had been dealt the brunt of the abuse. Zevran's mind seemed to be delighting in torturing him, with scenarios of what sort of ordeal _his_ warden had suffered through. The marks and bruises on Solona's legs alone told an ugly tale. If he were ever to find those who had laid a finger on her, he would flay them alive. Then Leliana slipped out of the room, pulling him from his macabre thoughts. She was still wearing the disguise she'd worn inside Fort Drakon, though hers was decidedly less bloody than the clothes he was still wearing. His fellow rogue gave him a small smile, but shook her head as she regarded him.

"You should really get cleaned up," Leliana stated. "It wont do Solona any good to see you in that state."

"How is she?" Zevran asked, ignoring the chastisement.

"Better than you might expect. Her skull was slightly cracked, as you suspected, but Morrigan has managed to heal it. Her eye isn't damaged, despite the swelling. Several ribs were broke and her shoulder knocked slightly out of joint. All of which has been healed. I think the Templar's smite has done more damage than anything physical she endured, because her powers still haven't returned. Which is why she couldn't heal herself," Leliana explained, before closing the distance between them. She lay a hand on his shoulder, before whispering in his ear: "Despite the marks on her body, they didn't assault her."

"Are you sure?!" he demanded, his voice a harsh whisper.

To her credit, Leliana merely nodded. "Yes. In her own words: 'Do you think I'm stupid enough to want to risk getting pregnant by one of those bastards? If they'd done that, you would know'. Solona admitted they'd groped her, that's how she was marked, but it seemed one of the female guards put a stop to it before it went any further."

For a moment, Zevran regarded his fellow rogue in silence, trying to gage if she was lying in order to save his feelings. Leliana looked back at him with unwavering blue eyes, her gaze open and honest. He let out a breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding. Despite being a bard, Zevran knew the Orlesian was extremely honest when it came to dealing with her friends, and things that mattered on a personal level. So he was inclined to believe her.

"Can I see her?"

Just then, Morrigan exited the room, gently shutting the door behind her as she did. Unlike Leliana, it seemed the witch had ripped the Chantry robes from her body the moment she was able to, and was wearing her familiar black trews and purple shift. However, her face was still scrubbed clean, which made her appear younger... despite the tired look in her eyes, and the furrow of her brow.

"She is sleeping," Morrigan informed. "I've given her a draft which will hopefully restore some of her mana and powers, but she will be weak for a number of days. A smite is a nasty thing, even without the other injuries she's endured."

Zevran just nodded mutely.

"Solona will be fine. I'd advise cleaning yourself up before joining her in bed. _No_ amorous activities," the witch continued, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "She needs to rest and rebuild her strength. I will skin you alive, if you hamper her healing."

Once again, Zevran just nodded. Right at that moment, he didn't really trust his voice to speak. He was overwhelmed by the welcome news that Solona would be alright, the relief was almost a physical sensation. Even without Morrigan's warning, he had no intention of doing anything that his warden hadn't asked for first. Though with Morrigan's warning, Zevran would endeavour to be more careful not to bend to Solona's requests, until he was certain she was fully healed. He refused to take any chances with his mage's recovery.

 


	69. Gratitude (Amell PoV)

Groggily, Solona blinked her eyes open. Everything still hurt, but it had dulled to a throb, rather than the agony she'd felt before. To her surprise, she found Zevran lying beside her, clad in only a pair of brown trews. Breathing deeply, she was greeted by the comforting smell of sandalwood, indicating that he had no long bathed. Carefully, Solona snuggled closer to him, glad of his presence and hummed in contentment, as he began to stroke her hair.

"I... did not thank you before," Zevran said suddenly. "It occurs to me now... that you have freed me from the Crows, and yet, I did not think to thank you for it."

Solona's brow furrowed. After everything that had happened recently, namely his timely rescue of her from Fort Dracon, she never expected their first conversation would be about the Crows. As far as Solona was concerned, there was nothing he needed to thank her for. Putting aside the fact he was her lover, Zevran was her friend and Solona knew she would always stand by those she cared about, no matter what. Not to mention that he'd more than returned the favour.

"Zev..." she began.

The assassin shook his head, not quite meeting her eyes. "No matter why you did it, still it was done, and I the benefactor. So... thank you."

It seemed there was something more going on in his mind than his words were revealing, it left Solona perplexed. Determined not to whimper in discomfort, she struggled to push herself into a more upright position, trying not to wince as she did so. Even though it was obvious she was well on the mend, Solona was not as healed as she would have liked to be, most likely because her mana levels still felt so ridiculously low. Without comment, Zevran helped her find a comfortable position, even plumping pillows for her, before he resumed the gently stroking of her hair. Without a word, she moved to lay her head on his bare shoulder.

"Firstly, you did already thank me," Solona smiled. "And even if you didn't, there is no need to thank me for it. Besides, I'm sure I owe you a least a dozen words of thanks for your timely rescue."

"No, there is a need," Zevran stated, brushing an errant lock of hair from her eyes. "I am simply not accustomed to the customs that come with our... arrangement."

Unable to help herself, Solona winced at the word; 'Arrangement'. Despite knowing, or at least suspecting Zevran's views on romance, it stung more than it should. Even though she had tried so hard not to fall in love with the assassin, Solona knew that she had. Head over heels in fact.

"In the crows, we do not have 'friends', and yet... here you are, and I cannot but consider you such," he continued, sombrely.

The faintest of smiles formed on Solona's lips. It wasn't what she wanted to hear, but she could imagine it was hard enough for Zevran to admit a friendship, let alone anything else. However, the way he acted with her, the fact he had almost single handedly stormed a fortress to rescue her... surely it had to be more than just friendship he felt. Though a small part of Solona wondered if it was the physical pain she coursing through her body that was making her brain a little foggy, that was giving her the sense of hope that she felt. Still, Solona found herself taking a deep, steadying breath.

"I think of you as more than a friend," she whispered.

There was a moment's silence, before Zevran admitted: "I... must admit that I... have thought of you in the same way. I simply had no idea you might... feel the same." He paused before adding: "How very novel."

That surprised a huff of laughter from Solona. It was so utterly 'Zevran', that she couldn't help it. Even knowing it was just his way of deflecting and redirecting the conversation because it was too personal, going into territory that he wasn't comfortable with, Solona still found it sweet and adorable. Two things she doubted anyone else would ever consider the assassin.

"Well... now that that moment's over with..." Zevran started, looking more than a little embarrassed.

"Zev..." Solona interrupted, taking hold of his free hand. "I do care for you, more than just a friend, but you are also a good friend to me. I doubt I'd be alive right now, if you and Oghren hadn't come for us. So, really... I am the one who needs to say thank you." She paused, tilting her head to look him in the eye. "Also, I am very glad to have met you. Even if you were trying to kill me at the time."

He chuckled at that, before kissing her forehead. "Then allow me to say this. What we are doing here... stopping the blight, I cannot think of anything I have ever done which is so worthy. I intend to see this through to the end with you. After all... someone must take responsibility for preventing your untimely death."

"And who is more qualified than a handsome, Antivan assassin," Solona teased, snaking her arm around his waist.

 


	70. Mistakes Made (Zevran PoV)

Zevran sat, starring into the smouldering embers of the fire, before angrily throwing another log onto the dying flames. His mind was in turmoil. He was still angry that Solona had turned herself over to Loghain's men, relieved and over joyed that she was now safe again and relatively unscathed, as well as confused as to the depth of feelings he felt for the red haired mage. Solona occupied almost every waking thought he had, and nearly every dream, even though she slept beside him every night. Zevran had found himself looking for his warden in the midst of battle, to check her health and safety, rather than keeping his own guard up. He marvelled at the way Solona's smile could cheer his mood, no matter how dark it was, and worried about the way his chest felt constricted, whenever men like Bann Teagan... men better than himself... offered her compliments or eyed her appreciatively. He was amazed he found himself thinking of the warden as 'his', and how his heart rate had quickened the previous night, when Solona had stated that she thought of him as more than a friend. In short, Zevran was a mess. He was terrified. Then he heard the door to their chamber open, then close gently, which pulled him from his thoughts. Then quiet, padding footsteps approached his seated position in the high backed armchair. There was no doubt in Zevran's mind that it was Solona. He'd long ago learnt to recognise the sound of her walk, and there was no mistaking the pleasant floral oil she had taken to wearing, since they'd come to Denerim.

"Care to join me in bed?" she asked, her voice dropping to the seductive whisper that usually brought him running.

"No!" Zevran exclaimed, despite how the offer stirred him.

He stood up in alarm, mainly from how his own response which startled him, probably as much as he supposed it would have surprised Solona. As he turned to face her, Zevran caught the flash of shock in her verdant eyes, which was swiftly followed by a look of pure hurt. Zevran's chest felt constricted when he saw that, hating knowing he had caused her upset. However, Solona quickly schooled her face into the mask she often worn in public. Polite, amicable, but confident. Seeing her adopt that look in front of him, because of him, made Zevran's chest constrict once again. It was a concerning sensation.

"I... no. I mean no offence, I simply... no," he tried to apologise, stuttering as he spoke.

"Alright..." she said at length, looking a little confused. "I'm sorry...?"

"You do not need to apologise," he quickly reassured her. "Just... do not ask."

"Okay...?" Solona replied, cautiously.

She seemed anything but convinced, and was being to regard him with obvious concern, making Zevran feel more confused and also guilty. He shut his eyes, as much to block out her beautiful face, as it was to hide from her worry filled eyes. Solona always seemed to manage to make him feel like he had something to answer for, even when she hadn't asked a question. To make matters worse, Zevran also knew the warden didn't even know the effect she had on him. Which just went to show how dangerous the feelings he felt for her were. He was giving her power over him.

"I do not wish to talk about it," Zevran stated, the annoyance he felt creeping into his voice.

"If you are sure..."

"I am," he interrupted. "We have plenty of other things to deal with, after all."

"That... we do," Solona replied, hesitantly. "However... if you..."

"Enough!" Zevran snapped, glaring at her. "I said... I am not interested."

It was a lie, despite his anger, and he knew that. In truth, the anger Zevran felt wasn't even directed at the fiery mage, it was at himself. It was his own fault he let her consume so much of his time, so much of his thoughts. It was his own fault that he had gone against everything he had ever been taught, everything that he knew to be true. It was his own fault that her lov...

"Can you not understand that?" Zevran grit out, trying to block out what his mind was thinking. "There are other things for you to focus on besides me, I am certain. Do... do those."

Once again, the look of hurt was back in Solona's eyes, and to Zevran's quiet horror, he was sure he could see tears beginning to form. However, before a single one fell, the mage's face was a mask again. It would have made Zevran marvel, how quickly she could hide her emotions, except he knew the reason. There had been more than one night, where he had woken up to the sound of her crying softly, and ended up coaxing horror story after horror story from Solona, of her time in the Circle tower. She had learnt to hide her emotions, because it was the only way to survive her imprisonment. A sentiment Zevran understood all too well. In complete silence, Solona nodded her head sharply, before turning abruptly on her heel and striding out of their chamber door. She moved with force and purpose, and from a lesser woman, Zevran would have expected a slammed door. However the warden shut it carefully, but deliberately, before her footsteps began to recede. Heading towards the estate's main hall. It was at that exact moment, that Zevran realised he may have just made the biggest mistake of his life. The weight he felt in his chest was crushing.

 


	71. Unexpected Friendships (Amell PoV)

Clad in only Zevran's old white shirt with a heavy woollen throw wrapped snuggly around her, Solona sat curled up next to the large hearth in the great hall. She was staring into the flames, still desperately trying to control the tears that wanted to fall. Cadoc lay beside her, his large head rested heavily, but comfortingly, on her lap. Solona knew she should be focusing on the upcoming Landsmeet, but she couldn't stop replaying the conversation she'd just had with Zevran. She had never known him to behave like that, it left her feeling lost and adrift. For the life of her, Solona couldn't think what she might have done, or what could have happened to cause the change in him. Especially since Zevran had been extra attentive since her rescue from Fort Dracon.

"Can you not sleep, my lady?" a voice called.

Blinking in surprise, Solona turned her head in the direction of the voice. Bann Teagan stood leaning against the stout oak table that ran nearly the fully length of the room, regarding her kindly. He worn brown woollen trews and a plain cream cotton shirt, indicating he had been heading for bed, he looked quite fetching if she were being honest. Solona hoped she hadn't disturbed him, as she and Cadoc had hurried down the corridors, away from the chamber she shared with Zevran.

"There is much on my mind," she answered, as truthfully as she could.

The smile that Teagan gave her was almost knowing, and Solona watched in silence as her fellow red head simply nodded, before heading towards an ornately carved, oak sideboard. Without preamble, he quickly produced a glass bottle, etched with the Guerinn coat of arms and filled with a tawny red liquid, along with two tumbler glasses. Cadoc huffed in slight annoyance when his sleep was disturbed, as the Bann came to sit with them. Solona managed a weak smile, and gratefully accepted the filled glass that he offered her. In a silence that was quickly becoming comfortable, they sipped their drinks, and Solona was pleased to find the nutty flavour of aged port dancing on her tongue. She couldn't help but hum in approval. Teagan gave a quiet chuckle.

"I am glad the lady approves," he stated. "Your smile is very becoming."

"Thank... you," Solona replied, a little hesitantly. Completely taken by surprise by his compliment.

"Come now, my dear lady, I am sure you are not unused to hearing the truth," the Bann teased. "Your rogue seems like the sort to express such things."

At the mention of Zevran, Solona was unable to keep her smile from faulting. At that moment, she was so unsure of their unconventional relationship, that she doubt he was 'hers' at all. Knowing it was probably not the smartest thing to do, she drained the rest of drink, before setting the glass to the side. Teagan only looked mildly surprised, before his grey eyes turned gentle as he regarded her.

"Ah..."

To Solona's relief, the Bann actually followed suit, downing his remaining drink then discarded his glass next to hers. After a moment's hesitation, he took her hands in his, squeezing them companionably. She gave him another weak smile.

"I did not believe it was the Landsmeet keeping you awake, my lady," he admitted, quietly. "Am I to presume it has something to do with your... lover?"

A small smile threatened to form at the Bann's hesitance to call Zevran such, though she was thankful Teagan hadn't him 'her elf', or something similar. However, Solona chose to simply nod in response, figuring it was the best balance between keeping her personal affairs private, and not appearing rude. For his part, the Bann gave her hands another light squeeze.

"Do not worry, I do not seek to drive a wedge between you, nor do I wish to pry," Teagan smiled. "Though I will admit, had I not witnessed you two together, I would be an eager suitor. But it is evident the affection and regard you have for each other."

Solona's eyes widened in shock, both from his admission and his assessment. Though, as she went to speak, Teagan shook his head.

"My lady, you are a beautiful, intelligent woman," Teagan stated. "Any man would be lucky to have you give them your attention. I am certain your rogue knows this, or he would not look so murderous whenever another man talks to you."

She went to protest, but her companion chuckled.

"Oh, he will not let you see. No man likes to show his jealousy, but trust me when I say it is there," he smiled. "I do not know what has happened between you, but I am sure it is nothing more than a passing misunderstanding. If I may be so bold, my lady, it is very clear he loves you."

Once again, Solona's eyes widened and she shook her head. "Thank you, my lord, but I am afraid I do not have your conviction."

"Take heart," he implored, gently. "And trust me. I doubt your rogue would take kindly to me saying this, but he stalked the corridors outside your room like a caged animal after your return from Fort Dracon. He loves you, and I dare say more than life itself, for the stunt he pulled getting you out of Loghain's clutches." The Bann paused for a moment, eyeing her critically. "And to you, my dear lady, it is just Teagan."

Despite not knowing if his words were true, or just said in comfort, Solona was touched and lifted by them all the same. At any rate, it was sweet that the Bann would take time to cheer her up, especially at such a Maker-forsaken hour, if the twelfth chime of the chantry's bell was anything to go by. Secretly, Solona doubted she would have gotten through the night without shedding a tear, if it hadn't been for Teagan. She lightly squeezed his hands in thanks.

"And to you, it's just Solona," she smiled in reply.

* * *

** Author's Note **   
**I do love Teagan, I think he's such a great character & I wish more had been done with him during the games.**

 


	72. Consequences (Zevran PoV)

The minutes had turned into nearly two hours, before the door to their room opened slowly. However, Zevran didn't bother to raise his head from where it rested in his hands. It was true that he felt like a fool, but something inside Zevran halted him from retracting his earlier out burst, and all but begging Solona for forgiveness, which was the least he knew he should do. Perhaps it was pride that stopped him. Perhaps it was fear. He really wasn't sure anymore.

"My answer has not changed," he said, but without the venom from early.

"You are a fool." Came the lofty reply.

Zevran whipped his head up at the sound of the voice, for it was not Solona's. Instead, he found Morrigan leaning against the stone door frame, her unnerving yellow eyes regarding him with open disdain. A cold shiver ran down his spine, involuntarily. The witch's presence did not bode well.

"I do not know what you have done or said to make Amell sit staring into flames, but unless you rectify it immediately, I will make you pay dearly for your mistake." Morrigan paused, as an almost cruel smile formed on her lips. "Or perhaps the Bann will. Since it is he who is the one currently consoling her over a bottle of wine."

Driven by instinct, and without waiting to hear what else the witch had to say, Zevran shot to his feet and shouldered passed her, bound for the great hall. It was the only place that he could image Solona would be conversing with the Bann. Or at least... he hoped that is where they were. Zevran doubted he would be able to cope with finding his fiery mage in the arms of another man, even if he had pushed her there himself. His heart pounded in his chest, he knew he'd been such a fool. He just hoped against hope that he wasn't going to pay the ultimate price for his stupidity. Thankfully, to his great relief, Zevran found the pair sitting by the large hearth that took up one end of the great room. Unusually, they were both sitting on the floor, with Cadoc sprawled between them being petted. Zevran's gut twisted, they made a handsome picture together. However, he knew he had to at least try, he owed Solona that much. So acting more confident that he felt, Zevran strode towards the pair.

"But I see I am not the only one who wishes to comfort such a beautiful lady," the Bann said, smiling at Solona. "Please, enjoy the rest of the port. I will see you before the landsmeet tomorrow."

When the Bann went to kiss Solona's hand, the warden unexpectedly cupped his cheek, which sent a cold shiver down Zevran's spine. Perhaps he was already to late.

"Thank you, Teagan," she smiled. "You're a good man, and a good friend."

The Bann chuckled. "It is no great hardship to converse with a lady as lovely as yourself, Solona. Especially when I owe you my brother's and nephew's lives."

With that Bann Teagan left, nodding courteously to Zevran as he passed. Still seated by the hearth, Solona silently poured more of the rich red port, surprisingly sliding the glass in his direction, before turning to gaze back to the flames. Cadoc whined, shuffling to lay his large head on his mistress' lap, but not before glaring at Zevran first. Cautiously, he sat beside her, in much the same way the Bann had been seated. However, an uncomfortable silence shrouded them, something that had never happened before. Zevran shifted uncomfortably, trying to think how to break the icy atmosphere.

"You seem... different now," Solona said, quietly.

Zevran risked glancing at her, and was sure he could see tears in her verdant eyes. His chest constricted, knowing he was the cause. "Are you certain you wish to talk about this? I really do not know what to say."

"I do not expect you to do anything you do not wish to do," she replied, monotonously. "Lest of all, anything concerning me."

Suddenly Solona rose to stand, and without thinking Zevran scrambled to his knees and grabbed her wrist, knocking over the port in his haste. Cadoc growled, low and menacing. The mabari's snout was mere inches from his face, yet Zevran kept his eyes on his warden. Even if all he could see was the fall of her red hair, burnished like garnets in the firelight.

"I... no, this..." He sighed, agitated at his stuttering. "I have acted like a child, I realise this and apologise. Allow me to explain?"

Solona gave an almost imperceivable nod, but still did not turn to face him. However, Zevran refused to be discouraged. She was allowing him a chance to explain, and he hoped that small gesture meant something.

"An assassin... must learn to forget sentiment. It is dangerous," he began. "You take your pleasures where you can, when life is good. To expect anything more would be reckless. I thought it would be the same between us. Something to enjoy, a pleasant diversion and nothing more. And yet..."

When silence fell between them once more, born from Zevran fighting to find he words to say, Solona glanced over her shoulder at him. Her expression was mostly blank, the mask she wore when dealing with those she did not trust. It tore at Zevran, to see that look direct at him. Though there was a small glimmer of hope when Solona raised an eyebrow.

"And yet?" she asked, sombrely.

Zevran sighed, as he moved to stand. "I do not know how to say this."

"Are you saying you are in love with me?" Solona asked, finally turning to face him.

There was no coyness in her voice as she asked, perhaps some scepticism, but nothing certainly nothing flirtatious. Zevran knew she was merely asking a question she wanted a honest answer to, however he unexpectedly felt the tips of his ears beginning to burn. And realised for perhaps the first time since childhood, he felt embarrassed. Not at her question, but because of his lack ability to answer fully. In truth, Zevran was ashamed he was unable to tell his mage everything he felt for her.

"I... do not know," he replied, hesitantly. "How would you know know such a thing?"

"You know," Solona replied, quiet but resolute. "Trust me... you know."

There was something in her tone that kindled the hope he felt, and gingerly, Zevran took both of her hands in his.

"I grew up among those who sold the illusion of love, and then I was trained to make my heart cold in favour of the kill. Everything I was taught says what I feel is wrong. Yet, I cannot help it. Since that first night together, I have been nothing but confused. Do you... understand me at all?"

The barest hint of a smile formed on Solona's full lips. "Better than you know," she whispered. "Do you think romance was permitted in the tower? Friendships could be risky enough. But to fall in love... that came with the risk of the Templar's tearing you apart. Or worse, one of you being made tranquil."

Zevran blinked at her, he had never considered this before. Though when he thought about it, it made a sickening, logical sense. She had once referred to the tower as a gilded cage, and he himself saw the Circles as nothing but a prison. It also explained the strange way that Templar; Cullen, had acted. At least he supposed... seeing the woman you had fallen in love with with another man... that must be agony. The mere thought that Solona was with the Bann had tore at Zevran, and it was not something he ever wanted to experience again. Taking a deep breath, he willed himself to look deep into Solona's verdant eyes. Whatever the outcome, he had a feeling it was now or never. No matter what else he was, Zevran believed that he was no coward.

"All I need to know is if there might be a future for us, some possibility of..." He paused in frustration, annoyed that the words still would not come. His eyes closed tightly. "I do not know what."

At the sound of Solona's gentle chuckle, Zevran's eyes snapped open. He found the warden regarding him with a look so full of genuine warmth, maybe even love, that his heart felt like it would beat out of his chest. The look was honest, and he dared hope it meant what he wanted it to mean. What he never thought he would have.

"I... believe so," she replied, almost shyly.

If asked later, Zevran would deny that he wasted precious moments almost gaping at her in surprise, before hurriedly fishing out the earring from the pouch at his side. He had carried it with him ever since Solona had placed it in his hand for safe keeping, when she let herself be taken by Loghain's men. Now seemed the most appropriate time to return it to her, though this time Zevran wanted her to know the real meaning behind it.

"This does belong to you," he started. "But would you accept it again... if I said it was a token of affection?"

A sparkle entered Solona's eyes, one Zevran hadn't seen before. "Are you proposing?" she asked, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

 _'YES!'_ his subconscious screamed.

"Not... unless you wish it," he replied, hedging his bets.

Solona shook her head, though her smile was fully present. "Yes," she said, softly. "I do not know what the future holds, but I do know how I feel about you."

Zevran swallowed thickly passed the unexpected lump in his throat, and for a moment, it felt as if his heart stopped. It struck him then, he'd just asked Solona to marry him... and she had said yes. Yes. He pulled his fiery mage into his arms, perhaps more forcefully than originally intended, if the soft 'umph' she gave was any indication. Beside them, Cadoc gave a happy yap as Solona began to giggle. Zevran held her close, burying his face into the crook of her neck, blinking back the tears that began to prick his eyes. After several calming breaths, he pulled back enough to see the affection in her sparkling eyes.

"Then we need say no more. That is all I wished to hear," he smiled, fastening the gold hoop into her ear once more. "I am sorry for acting so strangely. I think I will be better, now. Much better."

* * *

** Author's Note ** **  
Dedicated to starryskyondragon'sback, over on FF.net**

 


	73. The Morning After (Amell PoV)

Solona stretched languidly, her eyes blearily opening, as the wan dawn light barely filtered through the heavy velvet drapes. Her muscles felt deliciously sore, a pleasant reminder of the amorous activities that had kept her and Zevran preoccupied for most of the night. Despite knowing what the day would likely bring, Solona couldn't help the wave of happiness that washed over her. After the terrible start to the previous evening, she still could hardly believe that Zevran had proposed. The first time he'd asked in a round about way had be special enough... though it was the second time that Solona would hold most dear. Especially the way his hands shook as they held hers, and the unshed tears in his eyes as he properly asked her to marry him, once they had been safely in the privacy of their chamber. With this memory in mind, a gentle smile formed on Solona's lips as she rolled onto her side to face her fiancé. She was only slightly surprised to find Zevran already regarding her with open affection.

"Good morning, mi amora," he greeted, his Antivan accent made thicker by sleep.

She hummed in contentment as Zevran lightly caressed her face, before moving to pull her close to his naked chest. Solona went willingly, enjoying the warmth that radiated from his body, as she curled into his embrace. There was something that just felt _right_ when she was in his arms, something that life in the circle had never let her hope for. Sure... there had been plenty of fleeting trysts with fellow mages, and her long running crush on a certain Templar, but nothing had prepared Solona for feeling safe in the arms of another. Let alone in the arms of an assassin that had once tried to kill her. Unable to help herself, a sleepy giggle escaped her. Zevran pressed his lips to her unruly red hair.

"You are in good humour, cariño," he murmured, an evident smile in his voice.

"Waking up to you, how could I fail to be?" she quipped, snuggling closer.

"I am pleased that my bed warming services are still palatable," he retorted.

Chuckling, Solona shook her head. Even after the many months they'd been together, the fears and dark secrets they'd shared, she was glad they could still sass each other as they did. It reminded her of their first night together, when their relationship shifted from friends and sexual tension to actual lovers. It was something Solona hoped would never change.

"They are satisfactory," she replied, deadpan.

Zevran's answering laugh was rich and warm. "Satisfactory?! I am offended, mi amora. I have it on good authority, from a certain beautiful Grey Warden, that my services far exceed satisfactory."

Just as she was about to retort something regarding Alistair, Solona found herself playfully being pushed onto her back. Zevran moved over her, coming to lie in between her legs, bringing their naked bodies flush and his evident arousal making itself known. He smiled impishly, before deftly running his tongue over the pulse point of her throat. A soft moan escaped Solona, and Zevran chuckled in response.

"Perhaps I should remind you?" he queried, dryly.

She gently tangled her hands in his blonde locks, ghosting her lips over his. "Perhaps you should."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it! All fully updated from what was originally posted on FF.net. The next chapter will be completely new material, I hope you enjoy.


	74. Plaguing Questions (Zevran's PoV)

A freezing morning mist had swept in from the port and blanketed Denerim in a murky haze. It was early... far too early as far as Zevran was concerned. But he knew as soon as the timid elven maid had nervously knocked on their chamber door, telling Solona about the trouble in the alienage; to ask for the wardens' help, that he was not going to be able to keep his fiery mage to himself until the call for breakfast. Which was how he found himself walking side by side with Solona, Leliana and Oghren as well as Cadoc for company, as they slipped through the alienage gates. The sun had barely risen as they entered the ramshackle area, and Zevran's stomach dropped at the site of it all. And as glad as he was to be free of them, he had no illusion that if it were not for the Crows, this was the filthy, disease filled life he would have lived in. Solona must have noticed his revulsion, because at that moment, her gloved fingers lightly brushed against his. The touch was fleeting, but it helped to ground him, and he shot her a rueful smile in thanks as the five of them continued further into the rundown district. Many elves gave them withering glances as they passed, and it wasn't long before one approached them. Zevran warily reached for one of his throwing daggers, until Solona gave the newcomer a beaming smile.

“Soris!” she greeted, grasping the man's hands warmly. “You're looking a lot better.”

The elf chuckled. “I see you remember me. I didn't thank you before, did I? I... I wish I could give you something...”

“You owe us nothing,” Solona interrupted, shaking her head. “I'm just glad we could get you out of there.”

Around them, several elves had gathered to eavesdrop on the conversation, and none so discreetly. Zevran heard whispers of: “That's the woman who rescued Soris” and “That's the Grey Warden Soris told us about”, they were spoken with a mixture of surprise and perhaps a little bit of doubt. Though that seemed to dissipate when Solona gladly accepted Soris' offer of hospitality. A few even smiled tentatively as they passed through the now gathered crowd. Zevran exchanged an amused glance with Leliana, who'd obviously heard the same whispered gossip as he had. However, Oghren seemed oblivious to it all, and Zevran had to wonder if perhaps his dwarven friend was too drunk to notice anything around them. Cadoc merely trotted at his mistress' side, occasionally giving a happy yap whenever Soris ruffled his ears. It wasn't a long walk to the meager cottage the elf called home. Actually, cottage was rather a grand title for the shack... it was really more a hovel. Something which Soris obviously knew, as he looked positively embarrassed as he offered them a seat, which encompassed several lumpy cushions haphazardly arranged near the hearth.

“So how did you come to be at the mercy of Howe's hospitality? If you don't mind me asking,” Solona queried.

She sat down gracefully, barely shuffling to find a comfortable position on the less than plush cushion. Zevran plonked himself down beside her, and unable to help himself, he wrapped an arm loosely around her waist. Absent-mindedly, he stroked the supple black leather and he could image the fine texture, despite his gloves. Their closeness seemed to surprise Soris, as the brown haired elf regarded them with surprise, before a small smile formed on his lips.

“I do not mind,” he replied, quietly. “The old arl's son ruined my wedding. A few of us went to get back what was stolen from us. I got captured.”

“What was stolen?” Zevran asked, instantly curious.

“My bride, along with several of the female guests along with my cousin Shianni,” he replied.

Beside Zevran, Solona tensed, a dark look flashing in her verdant eyes. “Were they alright?”

Soris nodded solemnly. “For the most part. And I suppose I got ofd easy in a way, I lived. I missed both Howe's purge and the plague... lucky me.”

“How bad is this... plague?” Leliana asked, leaning forward.

“I guess it's been pretty bad,” Soris shrugged. “I've seen a few sick people myself, but by the time I got here, it seemed to be under control. There are mages from Tevinter here, helping to treat it. But there's something odd going on though.”

“Of course it's odd, there's Tevinter mages involved,” Oghren grumbled.

Despite the slight smile she wore in response to the dwarf's complaining, Solona flashed Zevran a concerned look, worry very evident in her verdant eyes. Unable to help himself, Zevran squeezed her hip reassuringly, before her attention went back to the other elf. He couldn't be sure exactly what about Soris tale bothered her so, but it was clear that something was gnawing at her. Deciding that questions could wait until later, Zevran settled for stroking her hip in a soothing manner.

“Odd in what way?” she asked, cautiously.

“I'm not exactly sure,” Soris admitted. “But my cousin Shianni could tell you more. You can't miss her, just look for the angriest woman in the alienage.”

 


	75. Bells Toll (Amell PoV)

Solona threw herself down into the empty chair, sighing heavily. Beside her, Zevran chuckled as he squeezed her knee under the table. Cadoc was snoring as he lay at her feet, whilst Leliana quickly returned from the bar, bringing four steins of the Gnawed Nobles finest ale with her. Naturally, Oghren was the first to grab a drink, downing the amber liquid in three large gulps. The dwarf belched loudly, before stumbling towards the bar for more. Solona didn't blame him, and if it wasn't for the impending Landsmeet, she would be all for joining the cantankerous warrior in drinking herself into oblivion. The alienage had been harrowing. A dank, malodorous cesspit of depression and hardship. Solona shivered involuntarily as she remembered the morning's trials.

Encountering Soris again had been pleasant enough, and she was glad to see the elf looking a damn sight better than the last time she saw him. However, things had taken a turn for he worst, the moment he'd mentioned the plague that was threatening the other inhabitants of the alienage. Soon after that, Solona and her companions had set off in search of Soris cousin; Shianni, to see if anything more could be learnt about the situation. Just as the ex-prisoner had advised, the woman was easy to find by looking for the 'angriest elf in the alienage'. As she'd talked to Shianni, Solona couldn't help thinking if situations had been different, her and the elf would have been fast friends. As it was, the alienage's elder; Valendrian, along with Shianni's uncle; Cyrion Tabris, had gone missing. The red haired elf was adamant that the Tevinter mages and their supposed hospice had something to do with it, a theory that Solona could not refute. There was just _something_... some sort of feeling that the mages gave off, that made dread settle in her gut. And if the growls that Cadoc gave, or the intense look in Zevran's eyes were any indication, Solona hadn't been the only one who felt that way. It hadn't taken them long to decide that sneaking around the back would be the wisest option. Making a frontal assault, whilst quicker, would have put in danger the gathered elves. However, they needed a distraction that would allow them to slip by unnoticed. Oghren took it upon himself to provide their cover, when he stumbled over to one of the Tevinter mages, and belched loudly in his face. Solona had to stifle a giggle as she snuck down the adjacent alleyway, and a quick glance at Zevran had confirmed he found their friend's antics equally amusing.

When they finally infiltrated the so called hospice, all trace of amusement vanished. What they'd found inside had chilled Solona to the core. Cages upon cages of beaten elves, that other than their obvious signs of abuse, did not seem to be suffering from any form of 'plague'. Men, women, old and young. Held like cattle instead of people. Solona hadn't spared a thought before immolating the Tevinter in charge, her friends quickly dispatching his cronies. They'd freed the intended slaves, including Valendrian; but having to relay Duncan's fate to the warden's old friend had unashamedly brought tears to Solona's eyes, as had explaining to Soris and Shianni that their uncle wasn't coming home.

Then there been the harrowing fate of Ser Otto, the blind Templar that had hoped to unearth the wicked cause of a sinister feeling that disturbed his senses. Their combined search had led them to the abandoned orphanage; the site of the alienage's most horrific massacre and now apparent home to tormented spirits, shades, abominations and even demons. They'd taken care of the threat, but Otto had paid with his life. Solona had whispered a few canticles over his lifeless body, once Zevran and Oghren had managed to carry the Templar back to the alienage's streets. But after gratefully accepting Valendrian's offer to deal with the body, she'd made a hasty retreat to the nearest pub, wishing she could drown the memories of today in half decent liquor. She felt wrung out and dejected. Unfortunately, they only had the time to rush a single pint... Oghren somehow managing to guzzle down three in the same amount of time... before they had to return to Arl Eamon's estate. The Landsmeet was upon them.

 


	76. Deciding Fates (Zevran PoV)

Zevran's world felt like it was crumbling around him as he heard Solona accept Loghain's duel. He felt sick to his stomach, and his mouth felt as parched as if he had been wandering lost around the Antivan deserts. This shouldn't be happening. His fair warden had won the Landsmeet. The majority of the nobility, along with Queen Anora, had sided with Solona. Loghain's demand for a duel was a desperate man's last ditch attempt to save his sorry ass, she had no need to accept it; and even though the warden had agreed, there was no need for her to fight. Alistair, in an uncharacteristic show of anger, had all but growled that he would gladly send the Teryn to the Maker. But she'd declined, simply shaking her head with a kind but worried look in her eyes. Zevran had then offered to take her place, to be her champion. Solona was his love after all, how could he do anything else. However she had once again declined, a tiny smile on her luscious lips as she asked him, in a whisper, to trust her. Reluctantly, he'd nodded mutely, not trusting his voice to speak. Which was how Zevran found himself staring as Solona and Loghain faced off. He was only marginally relieved when Cadoc trotted to the warden's side, before growling menacingly at the traitorous Teryn. If he hadn't been so worried, Zevran would have cracked a joke about Fereldan's and their dogs. As it was, he was just deeply thankful that they were so crazy about mabaris, it meant that the war hound would be permitted to fight alongside his mistress.

“Ho! A mage who thinks she's a warrior,” Loghain taunted.

The Teryn drew his sword, eliciting several gasps from the gathered crowd. Zevran's heart began to thump in his chest, and his fingers twitched with the desire to reach for his daggers. It would be a simple thing, to throw a blade that would sink into Loghain's neck. Out of the corner of his eye, Zevran noticed Leliana's fingers twitch as well, as if his fellow rogue was having similar thoughts. It would be so simple, so swift an end. Far kinder than the Teryn deserved that was for sure. However, before he could act on his plan, a heavy hand rested on his shoulder. Glancing to his side, Zevran found Sten regarding him gravely. The Qunari said nothing, instead shaking his head once, before returning his attention to the duelling pair. Zevran followed suit, trying to block out all thought, just as he heard Solona begin to speak.

“Not just a mage,” she replied.

Her voice was unnervingly calm and collected, betraying no emotion. It seemed Loghain was about to cajole Solona again, until he noticed the warden unsheathed her twin daggers. Obviously the Teryn had expected her to produce a staff from somewhere, as did the assembled nobles if their surprised murmurs where anything to go by. There was a collective gasp of shock, as flames began to lick at the blades of her daggers, and Zevran was forced to wonder when Solona had taken the time to learn that particular spell. On his peripheral, he noticed Morrigan's purple lips curl into a satisfied yet wicked smile. Presumably it was the witch that had helped his warden with the spell, perhaps even finding it in her mother's grimoire.

“And it would be best not to underestimate me,” Solona continued, evenly. “I was trained by the best.”

The warden's eyes flickered to him for a heartbeat, before suddenly unleashing a powerful Winter's Grasp, freezing Loghain in place. The Teryn's eyes widened in surprise, as she simultaneously leapt towards him, both Rinna's and Duncan's daggers slashing expertly at Loghain's chest. Spinning with the grace of a dancer, Solona turned out of the traitor's reach, just as she unleashed a controlled Fireball. Zevran almost laughed as Loghain's chest piece clattered loudly to the floor. His heart swelled with pride for his fiery mage, as he watched her silently taunt the old warrior. The warden was more than holding her own, as she once again danced out of the way of one of Loghain's lunges, and Zevran knew he had a hand in how expertly she fought. He also suspected that her Duncan and Irving would also be proud of her, if they could see their fiery mage now.

Then, as quickly as the duel started, it was finished. With a sudden flurry of her twin blades and a lunge from Cadoc, Solona managed to dislodge Loghain's long sword from his grasp. The ornate blade clattered loudly to the flag stone floor. With another graceful twirl, the warden had her daggers crossed, one caressing each side of the Teryn's throat. If Zevran hadn't known any better, he would have supposed her to be a true rogue rather than a mage, and his pride in her soared even higher. He watched in silence as Loghain slowly and deliberately lowered himself to his knees, looking at Solona with a gaze that was boarding on respectful. It was certainly a turn of events.

“I underestimated you, Warden,” Loghain panted. “I thought you were like Cailan, a child wanting to play at war.”

“War is no game,” Solona replied, quietly.

The Teryn nodded. “I was wrong. There is a strength in you I have not seen anywhere since Maric died. I yield.”

Zevran watched as his fiery mage took a deep breath, even as her grip tightened on Duncan's blade. He could clearly see by the set of her shoulders and the careful mask of indifference she wore, that Solona was struggling to make a decision. Knowing her, she was most likely debating whether she should avenge the man she respected and credited for rescuing her from a life of forced imprisonment, or give Loghain a chance Zevran didn't think he deserved. Then again, he didn't think _he_ was deserving of the second chance the warden had given him one, so he wasn't really in a place to judge. Several heartbeats went by as Solona merely regarded Loghain, her expressive verdant eyes turned cold and aloof. Then she sheathed her daggers.

“I accept your surrender,” she stated, calmly.

“I didn't just hear you say that?!” Alistair interrupted, his voice an angry growl. “You're going to let him live? After everything he's done? He cost Duncan his life! Kill him already!”

“I am not a murderer.”

Even though her voice was almost a whisper, her tone had a steely resolve to it. And as she turned her gaze towards her fellow warden, Zevran noticed the look in her eyes boarded on weary. She was tired of all this, he knew. Solona was a kind and generous sole, drawn to helping people. He remembered her admitting one night as they lay in each other's arms, that if it wasn't a darkspawn, she felt sick every time she took a life. Even though she did so when needed, it wasn't in her nature. They all knew that, and the fact that Alistair was being bull headed enough to demand that of her, made Zevran grind his teeth in an effort to control his anger. However, at that moment the only other surviving Grey Warden in Fereldan stepped forward.   
  
“There is another option,” Riordan announced.

Zevran noticed the older warden barely gave Alistair a passing glance, before he pointedly regarded Solona. She raised an eyebrow, but her look had become warmer as she waited for him to speak. A tiny pang of jealously struck Zevran's heart, as irrational as he knew it was. Not a full day had passed since his fiery mage had accepted his proposal, and it was his earring that hung proudly in her right ear. However, he was new to all of this... to relationships and love. Zevran had been so lost in his thoughts, that he'd missed the majority of the unfolding conversation. When he came back to the present, he noticed Alistair was looking very pleased with himself. The queen seemed beside herself, whilst Solona looked close to tears herself. Riordan had his hand resting on her shoulder in an obvious sign of comfort, though the mage only had eyes for the queen.

“I am sorry, Anora,” she whispered.

As she drew Duncan's dagger once again, Zevran understood what had been decided, what was happening. He glanced at Loghain, who was still kneeling on the floor, his chest piece still discarded a slight distance away. The Teryn looked oddly at peace, as if he accepted his fate. Perhaps he had, and it was something that Zevran understood all too well. After all, seeking the absolution that death brought was the very reason he had originally chosen the commission to assassinate the Grey Wardens. He also knew the pain it would cause his fiery mage if she was the one to take Loghain's life. The only lives she took were in the heat of battle, never before had she faced this type of situation, and Zevran could see it was already gnawing on her conscience. However, being a Crow, he had no such qualms. Silently Zevran moved to Solona's side, lightly grasping her forearm to gain her attention.

“Allow me, mi amora,” he said, quietly.

The look of sheer gratitude and relief Solona gave him was heartbreaking, and he longed to wrap her in his arms, to comfort her. However, now was not the time or place. As a mark of respect for a man he had never met, Zevran took Duncan's dagger from her unresisting hand. He only spared a moment to scowl at Alistair in disapproval... if he desired Loghain's death so badly, it should be him taking his life rather than leaving it for Solona... before turning to face the Teryn. Just three long strides took him to Loghain, and Zevran knelt down in front of the warrior. The disgraced warrior regarded him with an almost amused expression, even as he braced his hand on the Teryn's left shoulder.

“Ignoring the irony, I hope this grants you peace,” Zevran stated, solemnly.

Without preamble, he sunk the dagger between the warrior's ribs, expertly find the heart and granting a quick death. Loghain gasped once, before his dead weight began to topple forward. Gently, Zevran lowered the body to the ground, as respectfully as he could. Traitor or no, he understood the man had once been a hero. Further more, his daughter was stood just steps away, and even though Zevran had no love for the queen, he wouldn't add to her anguish. Behind him, he heard a woman begin to sob, and as he rose and turned to face his companions, Zevran was only mildly surprised to find Solona almost holding Anora upright, the queen crying pitifully on her shoulder.

“Now all that remains is to decide the new ruler...”

The voice was that of Arl Eamon's, who had chosen that moment to step out of the crowd. All the nobles were beginning to turn to him, obviously wanting the Landsmeet over as quickly as possible. Zevran almost snorted, as he wiped Loghain's blood from the dagger, wondering how many of those gathered had actually seen someone die, especially the non-military women in the crowd. However, Solona turned her verdant eyes to the Arl, and Zevran noticed with slight surprise that they were narrowed in annoyance.

“Arl Eamon, please,” she began, her tone uncharacteristicly frosty. “Queen Anora has just lost her father. Be the gentleman we know you to be, and give her highness some time to recover from the shock.”

Once again, Zevran tried not to chuckle as the Arl looked positively abashed, as did Alistair. However, he'd encountered people like Eamon before, and though he was a pleasant enough man, Zevran doubted he would give the queen more than five minutes in which to collect herself. Which from the way she was still clinging to Solona, would not be time enough. If there had been any doubt in anyone's mind that she was more than just a political mind, it was gone with that image. Right now, she was simply a daughter. Luckily for Anora, it was Bann Teagan who stepped forward, his eyes warm and understanding as he regarded both women.

“An excellent suggestion, warden,” he agreed. “I suggest we reconvene after evening meal.”

 


	77. Aliances (Amell PoV)

Not bothering to contain her sigh, Solona sat heavily in the over stuffed chair, and took a hearty gulp of wine. Anora glanced at her briefly, before contemplating her own goblet, then to Solona's amazement, downed the rich red in one long drink. A small smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth, as she watched the blonde, feeling an unexpected sense of comradery. They'd taken their evening meal in the queen's quarters, far away from prying eyes and ears; and though Solona wished it was solely for Anora to mourn her father as was her right, it was also so they could discuss the Landsmeet's result without interruption. Eamon was a nice enough man, but unlike Teagan, she didn't trust him... he would use Alistair for his own gains, not taking the warrior's thoughts or feelings into account. Though Solona also wasn't entirely convinced of Anora's competence and motives either; after all, it was her father that had left the king to die, orchestrated the massacre and witch hunt of Grey Wardens, had hired an assassin to kill both her and Alistair... how much did the queen know, how much did she turn a blind eye to... There were far too many questions, far too many variables, but only a hour to find some sort of resolution.

Which was why Solona found herself alone with Anora, a plate of cheese and crackers sat between them, and a bottle of expensive red half empty already.

“I would welcome your support for my throne,” the queen said, suddenly breaking the silence.

Solona raised an eyebrow. “Are you proposing an alliance?”

“That is exactly what I'm proposing,” Anora nodded. “You support my bid to remain on the throne. You are seen as my father's enemy, yet you will be in support of his daughter. You will be seen as supporting the interests of Ferelden, and not just the Grey Wardens.”

“And what of Alistair?” she asked. “You must know Eamon will fight to put him on the throne. He is Maric's son after all.”

“It is true that Alistair has Therein blood. To some, this is more important that practical considerations, though I fear he would govern as Cailan did,” the blonde replied. “A union might be considered a compromise, but... is it something Alistair even desires?”

Once again unable to control it, Solona sighed again. “Allow me to speak candidly... I don't think he's going to be given much choice. Alistair is my friend, my brother, and I'm worried about him. I don't trust Eamon to have his best interests at heart, and though I can't say I know you well, I believe you would do better by Alistair than his own uncle would.”

She paused to take another gulp of wine, before continuing: “And I know this isn't fair on you either, Anora. You're husband has not long passed, now your father too, and your put in a position that requires you to fight for what was already yours. I don't know what your culpability is with what happened at Ostagar, or with what your father and Howe have done since then, but I can see that you care about the majority of your citizens.”

“Majority?” the queen echoed.

“Have you seen the state of the alienage?” Solona huffed. “And I can tell you, being born a mage and snatched from your family for something you can't control is no fun either. If you want my backing, you need to promise improvements for both mages and elves... but even then, I think we are going to need Alistair's agreement for anything to work. Eamon won't let this go without a fight.”

“If you would be willing to mediate between elves, mages and myself, I would gladly implement improvements; once they can be agreed upon. As for Alistair... let me say this, if he was willing to stand back and allow me to continue to govern the nation, then I would be willing to have him as my king.”

Solona shook her head. “No. If you were to marry Alistair, you need to teach him how to govern _with_ you. Not have him sit beside you and look pretty.”

Anora frowned. “It is my understanding that governing doesn't appeal to him.”

“It doesn't,” she readily agreed. “But as I've said before, I don't think he will get a choice. And with that in mind, what if something were to happen to you; sickness, injury, death... and Alistair didn't know how to govern in your stead. Would you trust the members of the court to guide him, without bias, would you trust Eamon?”

She let that hang in the air between them, before offering a slight smile. “If you're worried Alistair won't listen to you, or discount your ideas simply because they are not his own, he won't. I can assure you on that.”

“You sound as if you speak from experience,” Anora observed.

“I do,” Solona smiled. “Alistair is a wonderful Grey Warden, and technically my superior.”

“And yet here you are discussing the future of Fereldan with me...”

“Exactly,” she grinned. “He decided very early on that I was better to lead our ragtag group than he was, and he did so without any pride getting in the way. Alistair is a good man, with a good heart. He isn't too proud to admit when someone is better than he is, but is also willing to learn how to better himself. He is loyal, and determined, and excellent support. He will question you if he doesn't agree with something, but if you give him a valid reason and explanation, he won't second guess you. He's also likely argue with anyone who doesn't agree with you, once you've won him over actually...”

The queen actually chuckled. “Is there... anything else, you can tell me about him?”

Solona's smile softened. You didn't need to be a mind reader the realise Anora was nervous about what sort of husband she would be getting, rather than what sort of king would rule by her side. Without thinking, she leant over and rest her palm over the other woman's hand. To her surprise, Anora clasped her fingers tightly, and Solona's heart went out to her. For a moment, the blonde looked like a regular woman worrying for her future, not a queen who ruled an entire nation. Her calm veneer was a good cover, but Solona could see the cracks in the mask, and wondered if the Anora had ever had someone to really confine in before... perhaps Erlina, but how much could a queen really divulge to a servant?

“Alistair is a good man,” she reassured. “He's a bit of a dork, tells terrible puns and jokes, has an unholy love of cheese and is a little obsessed with hair... but he's a good man, and a great friend. If you were to marry him, he wouldn't expect anything from you, and wouldn't push you to so anything you didn't want to do. He's unwaveringly loyal, and a wonderful ally to have. If you do right by him, he'll do right by you. I can promise you that.”

Anora gave Solona an assessing look, before nodding. “Would you approach him about this union, for me? I'm interested what he has to say, and yet...”

“You don't want to risk having to face Eamon yet?” she guessed, moving to stand. “Don't worry, I'll go find Alistair.”

 


	78. Unions (Zevran PoV)

Zevran lent against the stone wall, shrouded in shadow, smirking as he watched his Solona address the gathered nobles. The audible gasps from the crowd were amusing, but nothing beat the look of shock that crossed the Arl's face, when it was announced that Alistair and the queen intended to marry... intended to lead Fereldan together.

He was incredibly proud of his fiery mage, and not even the look of open admiration that Teagan gave her, dampened his pride. Solona was a marvel, why shouldn't others recognise that. Zevran suspected a part of him would always worry, worry she would one day realise she could do better, worry that he would never be good enough for his warden. But then the earring he'd given her would glint in the light, as it was doing now, and Zevran found he could breath a little easier. Solona was _his_. He might have bungled the proposal, but she'd somehow said yes.

Alistair's bumbling words pulled Zevran out of his thoughts, and he stifled a chuckle as Solona and the queen exchanged knowing looks. His warden smiled fondly at her brother-in-arms, even as she rolled her eyes, but surprisingly Anora's lips twitched into a smile. Zevran wasn't exactly sure how Solona had managed to form a union... an alliance... between the pair, but he had a good feeling about it. Though he still almost jumped out of his skin, when Alistair suddenly announced:

“Solona Amell; my fellow Grey Warden, will... I hope... take Loghain's place as the leader of my armies.”

Even Solona looked surprised, and her gaze quickly search out his hiding spot in the shadows. It took him a moment to realise what she was doing; he may have sworn to follow her anywhere, but she was still trying to ask his opinion. Her thought and care humbled him. So Zevran stepped forward slightly, letting the flickering candles illuminate his face, just long enough so he could give her a wink. He knew she'd understand, and saw the ghost of a smile she returned, before she stepped up next to Alistair.

“I am honoured to stand by my brother's side,” she announced, calmly. “Though as our king, I am a Grey Warden. Our duty to Ferelden in best served fighting the Darkspawn threat. And where our king has Queen Anora to rule in his absence, I ask if Bann Teagan and Ser Cauthrien would aid me in my duties?”

There was no surprise when Teagan stepped forward, and lay an obviously familiar hand on Solona's shoulder. It spoke of trust, admiration and companionship. Zevran smiled. He might always feel a little intimidated by the Bann, but he could clearly see the two were friends, and so could the gathered Landsmeet.

“I would be honoured, Solona,” Teagan smiled.

What was unexpected was when Cauthrien pushed through the crowd. Zevran's eyes narrowed at the woman who had arrested his beloved mage. He didn't trust her, certainly not with his warden's safety. He didn't know what Solona was planning, or even thinking, asking this woman for help. But he knew her, and knew she wouldn't be doing this without good reason. However, even Cauthrien looked shocked by the request, but what really stunned everyone, was when the knight dropped to one knee in front of Solona.

“I pledge my life to you and our king,” she said, simply. “It will be an honour to serve you, Lady Amell.”

There was a quiet chuckle to his right, and Zevran turned to find Riordan by his side. “She is a remarkable woman, your Solona.”

Zevran smiled at his fellow rogue. “She is.”

 


	79. Little Talks (Amell PoV)

Alistair was waiting for her, as she approached Riordan's door. Zevran hadn't been too happy about the meeting, aparently having plans for how their last night before battle would go. But after promising to wrap up as quickly as she could, he'd sent Solona off with little more than a pout... and it was an adorable pout, one that she'd found herself planting lingering kisses on. Which was why she'd had to jog down the stone lined corridor, before meeting up with Alistair. So without delay, Solona knocked on the stout oak door, smiling warmly when their fellow Grey Warden ushered them into his room.

“You are both here, good,” Riordan greeted, leading them to a table. “You are new to the wardens, and you may not have been told how an archdemon is slain. I need to know if that is so.”

“You mean there's more to it, than chopping off it's head?” Alistair asked.

Solona barely resisted the need to roll her eyes.

“So it is true, Duncan had not yet told you,” Riordan sighed, gaze downcast. “I had simply assumed...”

Without thinking, Solona lay her hand across his, halting the nervous seeming drumming his fingers had been doing on the table's polished surface. He looked up at her, a little shocked, and she smiled at him as reassuringly as she could.

“I can't speak for Alistair, but I'd been a Grey Warden for all of a five minutes before shit hit the fan in Ostagar,” she explained. “Duncan didn't exactly have chance to tell me anything.”

Riordan nodded. “Tell me, have you ever wondered _why_ the Grey Wardens are needed to defeat the darkspawn?”

“I always assumed it involved the taint we carry,” Solona stated.

“That is exactly what it involved,” Riordan agreed. “The archdemon may be slain as any other darkspawn, but should any other than a Grey Warden do the slaying, it will not be enough.”

“Why?” Alistair asked, suspiciously.

“The essence of the beast will pass through the taint to the darkspawn, and will be reborn in that body. The dragon is thus all but immortal,” Riordan explained. “But it the archdemon is slain by a Grey Warden... it's essence travels into the warden instead.”

“What happens to the warden?” Solona queried, quietly.

“A darkspawn is an empty, soulless vessel, but a Grey Warden is not,” Riordan continued. “The essence of the archdemon is destroyed... and so is the warden.”

“Meaning... the Grey Warden who kills the archdemon... dies?” Alistair asked, slowly.

“Yes. Without the archdemon, the Blight ends. It's the only way.”

“So it's up to the three of us,” Solona stated, putting on a brave face. “I like our chances.”

Riordan gave a huff of laughter, squeezing her hand that hadn't released his. “In Blights past, when the time came, the eldest of the Grey Wardens would decide which amongst them would take that final blow. If possible, the final blow should be mine to take. I am the eldest, and the taint will not spare me much longer. But if I fail, the deed falls on you.”

“Of course,” she agreed. With Alistair muttering a quiet: “Understood.”

“The Blight must be stopped now, or it will destroy all of Fereldan before the rest of the Grey Wardens can assemble. Remember that.” Riordan gave a surprisingly pointed look at Alistair, before shaking his head. “But enough. There will be much to do tomorrow, and little enough time to rest before it. I will let you return to your rooms.”

“I will see you once the army is ready to march then,” Alistair stated. “I guess this ends soon, one way or another.”

The three of them made their way to stand, and Solona offered her adopted brother a smile before he left the room. She was about to offer the same to Riordan, before he unexpectedly rested a warm hand on her shoulder. The look he levelled her with was both warm and concerned, and she found her hand curling around his wrist, hoping to offer him some sort of reassurance; despite not knowing what was going on in his mind.

“I was in love once,” Riordan stated, quietly. “With a beautiful and fierce woman, who was guard captain of the town we were stationed near. Both being warriors, I thought I knew the risks and dangers we faced daily... I did not.” He paused then, giving her a sad smile. “Have a care for your young man, Solona. It is clear that you and the elf love each other, so make the most of tonight. Cherish it. I have always regret that I didn't treat every battle like it was our last, that I didn't make the most of the time we were granted. Do not make the same mistake I did.”

Without thinking, Solona placed a soft kiss on his bearded cheek, whispering quiet thanks before she left the room. She wasn't exactly surprised to find Zevran waiting for her, his arms crossed and expression serious, as he leant against the stone wall. In an instant she knew he'd heard everything. Subconsciously, Solona tensed, waiting for some sort of reaction or outburst from her lover... perhaps shouting, or even trying to persuade her to run away. She wasn't exactly sure what she was expecting, but it hadn't been for his calloused hand to gently wrap around the back of her neck. Zevran pulled her to him, her fingers curling reflexively into the cream fabric of his shirt, the moment their lips touched. Not wasting a moment, his tongue swiped the seam of her lips, demanding entrance which she gladly gave. Solona took a shaky breath. Zevran smelt like sandalwood, tasted like Antivan brandy. The heady kiss only lasted a few heartbeats, before they both drew back, all too aware they were still stood in a chilly stone corridor. A heated look passed between them, before his fingers were slowly entwining with hers. She offered him a sad smile.

Walking hand in hand, Solona and Zevran made their way to their chamber in a sombre silence. She supposed she should be a little mad that he'd been eavesdropping, but then again, she couldn't exactly fault him. Even though they'd been together for quite a while, Solona knew a relationship was a new and probably quite frightening concept for Zevran. She knew _him_ , and knew about his past, so had been expecting hiccups along the way. Still, she proudly wore his earring, and had been secretly looking forward to having enough peace and time to actually marry the man she loved. But now Riordan had put doubts in her mind, in both their minds; if the grim look of Zevran's face was anything to go by.

The chance of dying in battle had always been a possibility, but Riordan's words had brought death looming over them... Solona knew they needed to talk, and if they had time, she would have. But it was the eve of battle, and where she'd been clinging on to shreds of hope that they'd both make it through tomorrow, she now felt desperate. They should talk, but all Solona wanted to do was spend what could be her last few hours, showing her fiancé how much she loved him. If this was their last night, she wanted to make it count.

However, as Zevran pushed open their chamber door, he didn't immediately pull her into his arms, like he usually would. Instead, he pushed her behind him, his hands moving to grip his daggers. Solona followed suit, her finger tips brushing over the pommels, as they regarded the person silhouetted by the roaring fire in the hearth.

“Do not be alarmed, it is only I,” the figure stated.

“Morrigan? Is everything alright?” Solona queried, concerned.

“I am well. 'Tis you who are in danger,” the witch replied, cryptically.

Zevran tensed. “Where is my target?” he asked, seriously.

Morrigan finally turned from the dancing flames, regarding Zevran. “I must speak with Amell privately.”

His eyes narrowed suspiciously, but before anything more could be said, Solona lay a gentle hand on his shoulder. When he glanced at her, she offered a tired smile.

“Can you give us a little while, love?”

Zevran's gaze flickered between the two woman, before giving a silent nod. He left the room, quietly closing the door behind him. Unable to help the tired sigh that escaped her, Solona shook her head, before making her way to one of the armchairs that sat in front of the fireplace. She knew Zevran wouldn't be far away, fully expecting him to be eavesdropping somehow, but still she waved the witch to the remaining armchair. Her fellow mage's purple lips twitched, a hint of a smile, as if she too knew the assassin would still be close by.

“Thank you,” Morrigan said. “What I have to say is best kept secret... I have a plan, you see. A way out. The loop in your hole.”

Solona tilted her head to the side, considering her friend. “You heard our conversation with Riordan?”

Morrigan nodded. “I know what happens when an archdemon dies. I know a Grey Warden must be sacrificed, and that sacrifice could be you. I have come to tell you this does not need to be.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, as nonchalantly as she could.

“I offer a way out,” the witch stated. “A way our for all the Grey Wardens, that there need be no sacrifice.”

Solona leant forward, arms braced on her knees. “What are we talking about? Blood magic? A ritual?”

“A ritual... performed on the eve of battle, in the dark of night,” Morrigan explained. “It is old magic, from a time before the Circle of Magi was created. Some might call it blood magic, but that is but a name. There is far more to fear in the world than names.”

“Did you learn of this from Flemeth?”

Morrigan snorted. “From her grimoire. I have known about it for some time.” She sighed then, her yellow eyes staring back into the fire. “It would be easier, if you were a man. I respect you, Solona, and I know you would understand. But as it is, you would need to convince that fool Alistair of this, Riordan is too old, the taint too strong in him.”

Solona sat back in her chair, curling her feet underneath her. “Morrigan, I think you're going to need to explain a bit more than that to me.”

The witch sighed. “What I propose is this; convince Alistair to lay with me, tonight. And from our joining, a child will be conceived within me. The child will bare the taint, and when the archdemon is slain, it's essence will seek the child like a beacon. At this early stage, the child can absorb the essence and not perish. The archdemon is still destroyed, with no Grey Warden dying in the process.”

“Will the child be a darkspawn?” she asked, worried.

“Not at all. It will become something different; a child born with the soul of an Old God,” Morrigan explained. “After it is done, you allow me to walk away... and you do not follow me. Ever.”

Without thinking, she reached across to take hold of her friend's hand. “You know I could help you.”

“I know, Solona. And if circumstances were different... I would gladly welcome your aid,” the witch confided. “But as it is, I will raise the child apart from the rest of society, and teach it to respect that of which it came. I cannot say more.”

The news sat heavy on her heart. “You will be leaving, after the final battle?”

“I will,” her fellow mage answered, subdued.

Solona found herself blinking back unexpected tears. “You've become a sister to me, Morrigan. I will miss you.”

The witch unexpectedly squeezed her hand. “Know that the feeling is mutual, which is why I told you about the ritual. You and Leliana are the only friends I have ever had, I cannot risk losing you. I would have gone to Alistair, and saved you the knowledge, but I knew he wouldn't listen to me. I knew you would.”

She offered a weak smile, before rising to stand. “I can't promise I'll convince Alistair, and I won't force him. But I will go and talk to him...”

“You don't need to,” a male voice called.

The bedroom door swung silently open, revealing both Alistair and Zevran. The warrior had the decency to look embarrassed, though the rogue merely offered a shrug. Solona knew in that instance the pair had heard the entirety of the conversation, Zevran had probably gone to find the future king the moment he left the room. Part of her knew she should be mad at him, he was making a habit of lurking around during private conversation, but Solona also knew Zevran wouldn't be doing it unless it was important. He'd always given her space and privacy before when she needed it, so was confident it wasn't going to be an ongoing theme. So she merely raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him, before turning her attention to her fellow Grey Warden.

“I'll... I'll do it,” Alistair announced. “And just to make it clear, I'm doing it for Solona.” He crossed the room then, earnestly taking both her hands in his much larger ones. “You're like a sister to me, and I know you. If Riordan fails, you'd be the one to take the killing blow, because you'd want me to survive... to be the king you, for some reason, think I can be... no matter what it costs you. And I can't let you do that.” He looked up at Morrigan than. “So I'll do this ritual of yours, if you are certain it will save Solona.”

The witch smiled. “At last we can agree on something,” she purred. “I am glad it is decided. Let us go somewhere more private, Alistair. And believe me when I say; you will not hate this as much as you believe.”

 


	80. Edge of Glory (Zevran PoV)

He held himself above Solona, his chest heaving from exertion, as he looked deeply into the emerald depths of her eyes. Zevran wouldn't admit it, not even to himself, but he was trying to catalogue everything he could about his warden, his woman... his fiancée. He swallowed thickly, the telltale burn of tears pricking his eyes. Tonight could be the last they shared together. Of course, every battle, every skirmish could have been there last. But none had ever carried the weight the impending one did. It loomed over them, tainting their love making with a desperate edge... if it was to be there last night, it would be there best. And it had. Zevran had lost count how many times his sweet warden had tumbled over the edge, had gasped his name in pleasure, and equally driven him wild. It had gone on for hours, and even now, he was still inside her. But there would be no more ecstasy that night. Zevran's whole body trembled from exhaustion, and Solona's fevered touches had turned into languid, sleepy caresses; even as she panted for breath.

Slowly, she uncurled her legs from around his waist, smiling sadly when he finally withdrew. Somewhere down the hall, a clock struck three, and Zevran pressed his forehead against Solona's. Dawn would be approaching all too soon. In mere hours, he could lose the woman he loved... his entire world. And even though it was as dramatic as any of Leliana's tales, Zevran knew he would rather die, than try to live without Solona. She had consumed him, he was totally lost in her, and he knew his mage had never even thought to cast a spell on him. Solona had won him over by just being herself, and Zevran had always meant what he had pledged; he was her man, without reservation... he just still couldn't believe she'd wanted _all_ of him.

Zevran planted a soft kiss to Solona's temple, before he gathered her into his arms. A heavy air hung around them, and as it had been all night, neither of them dared to break the weighted silence. There was too much to say, not enough time to say it, and he worried that anything he did say, would just burden his warden. Still, his breath caught when she snuggled into him, holding him close as if she couldn't bare to let him go. He pushed her dishevelled hair from her face, his fingers carding through her auburn locks. She tilted her face up to look at him, the finally candle guttering out just as Zevran noticed the unshed tears in her eyes. He swallowed passed the lump that had formed in his throat and realised; it was now or never.

“Solona,” he whispered, his voice horse. “Te amo, cariño. I love you.”

 


	81. Beginning of the End (Amell PoV)

Riordan's hand felt heavy where it rested on her shoulder, but Solona didn't mind. She spared her fellow Grey Warden a tight lipped smile, her fingers settling over his almost on their own accord. The scent of smoke already hung in thickly in the air, the smell acrid and clawing, as Solona looked out across the courtyard and the gathered forces. She blinked back unshed tears; she'd already been feeling vulnerable after her night with Zevran, but Morrigan's impassioned words of friendship and sisterhood a mere hour ago: “Live well my friend, and gloriously”, had settled like a weight in her heart. Even since, Solona had sought solitude; thankful that her beloved Zevran had decided to make last minute preparations with Leliana... until Riordan found her.

“You have gathered an army, to replace the one lost at Ostagar,” he stated, solemnly. “Let us pray it is enough.”

Solona gave a shuddering sigh, her mind with the Dalish elves, the dwarven warriors, the Legion of the Dead, Redcliffe's soldiers, her fellow mages from the tower, and even the royal forces of Fereldan... _Alistair's_ army, not to mention her travelling companions; many of whom had become her family. The weight of thousands of lives had fallen on her shoulders, a burden Solona had never wanted, and subconsciously, her free hand curled around the hilt of Duncan's dagger. Of course, Riordan noticed.

“He would be proud of you,” he said, quietly. “As am I, for what it is worth.”

Glancing up at him, Solona gave his fingers a gentle squeeze. “A lot.”

“Then allow me to take the opportunity to say; it has been a honour,” Riordan smiled, kindly. “I regret I wasn't granted more time to get to know you, sister. You will make a fine leader of the Ferelden Grey Wardens.”

Another shuddering breath escaped her, as the telltale burn of fresh tears pricked her eyes. She hadn't told Riordan about Morrigan's plan; in truth, Solona was afraid to jinx any potential success. But regardless, there was still a real chance it could be the last battle for either of them. A hoard of darkspawn was advancing on Denerim, an Archdemon in tow... it could be the last battle for all of them. So no real thought went into Solona's next actions, as she angled her body slightly, enough to pull Riordan into a one armed hug; her arm settled securely around his waist. He stilled for a moment, clearly surprised, before his own arm slipped around her shoulders. They stood like that for several heart beats, silently looking out across the sea of their allies, before Solona rested her head on his leather clad shoulder.

“I hope to see you on the other side, brother.”

 


	82. Don't Tell Me Goodbye (Zevran PoV)

Fires burned around them, smoke hung thick in the air. The sound of swords and axes clanging against shields and armour rang out in the heavy atmosphere. Still, Zevran's lips twitched to smile, as he watched Solona speak with Oghren. No one could have predicated how the drunken dwarf had become one of the warden's closet friends , but it was obvious the two redheads' friendship was solid. The cantankerous warrior looked up at the mage with obvious love and respect, and Zevran's heart swelled with pride... he understood Oghren's devotion completely. He understood why the dwarf puffed up his chest, just a little, when Solona spoke about it being a honour to know him. Maker! Did he understand. He understood why both Leliana and Sten stood a little taller, when the warden instructed them to cover Alistair, and lead the remaining companions; respectively. He even understood the lingering look full of sadness that Morrigan gave Solona, when she thought her fellow mage wasn't looking. Maker, did he understand... and all too soon, it was his turn to speak with her. He'd hung back until the last moment, letting Shale and Wynne say their goodbyes, letting Alistair take a moment with the leader of his forces; yet another thing that made Zevran proud of his warden.

Cadoc trotted beside him as he approached her, and his hand rested reassuringly on the hound's meaty head, as his gaze roved over her form; wanting to commit every detail to memory... just in case.

“So, we head into the city to face the archdemon together, do we? Just as it should be,” Zevran stated, with false bravado. “If this should be the last we speak, I want you to know...” He paused, noticing that everyone was not-so-subtly listening in. “Assassinating you was the luckiest thing that could have ever happened to me.”

Solona smiled, touching her earring. “I love you, Zevran. I hope you know that.”

All at once, it felt as if his body had gone into over drive. His heart beat too fast, his mouth was too dry. He swallowed thickly, forcing himself not to look away from his warden... his beautiful, amazing cariño. He never dreamed she would declare it so publicly, even after accepting his earring.

“Yes... yes. I... I know that,” he stammered in reply.

Without thinking, and without caring who was watching, Zevran surged forward. His gloved hand settled at the nape of Solona's neck, and in a fluid movement, he brought her towards him. Though he longed to be able to devour her; just One. Last. Time. Zevran instead pressed his lips hard against hers. Tears pricked his closed eyes, as he felt her fingers curl around the leather straps of his armour. His other arm wound protectively around Solona's waist, hoping to keep her with him just a little bit longer.

“I... I love you too, mi amora,” he rasped out.

Zevran took a shuddering breath as he stepped away from her, squaring his shoulders. This was it. Morrigan, Oghren, Cadoc and himself had the honour of fighting by Solona's side; until the end. He just hoped the day wouldn't bring all his dreams to an end as well.

 


	83. Reprieve (Amell PoV)

Cautiously, Solona nodded to Morrigan; silently asking the witch to push open the stoat oak door with the base of her wand. She herself held her bow at the ready, Zevran's hands flexed on the hilts of his daggers and Oghren hefted his deadly great axe. Cadoc gave a warning growl, his hackles raising... after what they had fought through just to get into and up the tower, had all of them on edge. As the door slowly began to swing open, Solona cast a quick rejuvenation spell on the party, just to be sure. But then, she was left dumbfounded, staring mouth agape at the scene in front of her. Morrigan blinked in surprise, Cadoc promptly sat down; his head tilting to the side quizzically. Zevran shook his head, and Oghren actually laughed. The entire great room before them was littered with darkspawn bodies... not bodies; more a collect a disembodied limbs, spilt guts and several pools of blood. But that wasn't what had Solona amazed, despite the gruesome spectacle that it was. No. What had stumped her was who was stood in the centre of all the carnage.

“Enchantment?"

Sandal grinned at her, sounding as chirpy and as hopeful as ever. The young dwarf was covered in blood, but didn't appear to have a single scratch on him. Solona open and closed her mouth several times, utterly lost for words. She cast a quick glance at Zevran, who simply shrugged at her; a tiny smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Morrigan and Oghren proved just as unhelpful, though her fellow redhead was grinning just as widely as Sandal... damn dwarfs. Cadoc merely whined, sounding confused. Solona felt like she could get behind her mabari's assessment.

“You're surrounded by darkspawn corpses, what happened here?” she asked.

“Enchantment!”

The boy's grin was now impossibly wide, and he looked so proud of himself. Solona sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, before shrugging... she oddly wasn't surprised by the answer. Not because it was just about the only thing Sandal ever said, but because the young dwarf _was_ a savant when it came to enchantments... Solona also had an inclining that she may have been spending a little too much time with Bodahn, since she was certain she could understand his son's nuances now. Perhaps she wasn't the only once, because Zevran was suddenly laughing.

“That must have been a fine enchantment, my friend,” he drawled.

“Indeed,” Morrigan agreed, obviously trying not to smile.

“Bloody genius,” Oghren grinned.

Cadoc barked happily, adding his own opinion.

Solona couldn't help but chuckling. To be honest, she felt a little hysterical, the monumentally dire task had been weighing on her more and more, as the slaughtered their way through the darkspawn hoard. This whole incident was just absurd, but it was equally a much needed reprieve from gruelling slog they'd gone through so far. But though the boy might have seemed fine, Solona wouldn't live with herself, if she didn't cast a healing spell over him; just to be sure. She sighed again, this time feeling a little lighter. She rested a hand on Sandal's shoulder, smiling at him warmly.

“You did good.”

 


	84. Live and Let Die (Zevran PoV)

Zevran blinked awake, quickly becoming acutely aware he was lying in a pool of blood. Every party of his body hurt, but he was relatively sure the blood wasn't his, it certainly didn't feel like he was dying. But the smell of death hung heavily in the air, almost as thick as the acrid black smoke that covered the battle ground. Cautiously, he twisted his head to the side, and his heart felt like it stopped beating. Solona was there, just an arm's length away from him, her hand outstretched towards him. Her beautiful face was bruised and bloody, she didn't look like she was breathing. Zevran's desperately tried to reach for her, his battered body protesting painfully, until his finger tips barely grazed her own. His stunning, amazing warden _couldn't_ be dead. Tears pricked his eyes, as he dragged himself over to her. Just as he managed to curl himself around her, Zevran heard footsteps rapidly approach them, but he didn't care. Solona wasn't moving, she wasn't breathing. If she was gone, what point was there in living. She was the only good thing in his miserable life, without her, his life wasn't worth living.

To his surprise, a pair of wizened hands slowly came into view, and he blinked up to the new comer. He hadn't expected Irving's wrinkled face to swim hazily into focus, nor thought to see Lanaya standing right behind the elder mage. His fellow elf looked at him with such understanding, that Zevran couldn't hold her gaze for more than a heartbeat. It was too much to bare. He didn't need them to tell him Solona was gone, but then:

“She'll be alright,” Lanaya said, quietly.

“Solona is just weak,” Irving continued.

A shadow fell over Zevran, and he glanced over his shoulder to find Morrigan kneeling over him. “She used the last of her mana to save your life.”

Zevran swallowed thickly, turning his attention back to Solona, who still lay unmoving in his arms. Irving and Lanaya had both placed hands on his warden's porcelain skin, blue and green lights emanating from their touch. Silently, Morrigan leant over him, joining her power to the other mages'. Zevran barely dared to breath, lest it interrupted their spell. He wasn't sure how long they remained like that, but eventually the light began to fade.

“Did it work?” he whispered.

“Yes.”

Both Irving and Lanaya answered, smiling. However, Morrigan gave him a solemn look, and Zevran knew the witch understood he was asking a deeper question.

“It did in deed. I will not be able to stay and watch over her, so...”

“I will guard her with my life,” he interrupted.

To his amazement, Morrigan smiled. “I know.”

Before Zevran could say anymore, there was the sound of heavily armoured footsteps hurrying toward them. Before he could really process what was happening, Alistair was crashing to his knees in front on them, his hands shaking when he reached out to touch Solona's bruised cheek. Teagan stood behind him, looking stricken.

“Is she...?”

“She is fine,” Irving assured. “Solona just needs her rest.”

Both men let out a collective sigh of relief, and Zevran hardly begrudged letting Alistair cradle his sister-in-arms close to his chest. He still didn't entirely understand the bond the two shared, but he knew the ex-Templar-come-King would never do Solona any arm. Gingerly, he made it to his knees, managing a weak smile of thanks when Teagan helped him to his feet. Zevran waved for a moment, until he felt Oghren beside him, his gauntlet clad hand steadying him.

“Easy elf,” he grumbled. “I just watched you get run through.”

Zevran glanced back of the pool of blood, making Oghren laugh.

“Yeah, it's yours.”

His gaze snapped back to Alistair's retreating figure, Solona carried carefully in his arms, and Cadoc trotting beside them. He swallowed thickly, passed the unexpected lump in his throat, as fresh tears pricked his eyes.

“It seems I owe her another life debt.”

It was Teagan's turn to chuckled. “I would think it would be easier to just marry your lovely Solona.”

Zevran smiled. “You may be right.”

 


	85. A New Chapter (Amell PoV)

Of all the people Solona expected to come through her chamber door, it had not been Cullen. Despite the few letters they had exchanged since that awful confrontation in the tower, she had never expected to see her first love again. No matter what he had said, the strawberry-blonde Templar would always hold a special place in her heart, and she smiled at him warmly. Tiredly, she pushed herself into a more upright position, trying not to laugh when Cullen rushed forward and helped prop her up on the mountain of pillows Teagan had thought to give her. The moment she was sorted, Solona noticed the deep blush staining Cullen's cheeks, and her smile grew. She gestured to the armchair by her beside, that Alistair had not long vacated, quickly giving the man a once over. He looked... not well, but better. The simple green linen tunic and brown wool trews suiting him, despite the dark circles that ringed his eyes, he looked younger without the Templar armour weighing him down.

“Solona, I...”

“It's good to see you again, Cullen,” she interrupted.

He looked stunned by her admission, actually gaping her for a moment, before hanging his head. “Solona, I am so sorry...”

“Don't,” Solona whispered. “You apologised enough in your letters.”

Without thinking, she leant over to catch his hand in hers. It had been a long time since she'd felt his touch, and she affectionately rubbed her thumb over his knuckles. Tears pricked her eyes when he unexpectedly raised her hand to his lips, and pressed a kiss to her palm. Solona cupped his cheek, his stubble pleasantly rough against her skin. Cullen finally looked up at her then, and she managed a smile that was both loving and sad. They had never stood a chance, but a part of her heart would always belong to him. If the look he gave her was anything to go by, she knew he felt the same.

“So, you're getting married,” he said, quietly.

“So I am,” she murmured back.

The was a split second where there eyes met, and then they were both chuckling softly. Cullen reached for her free hand, squeezing it gently. The small, shy smile he gifted her with, remind Solona of the boy she'd originally fell for. She couldn't help hope that one day he'd leave the Templars, leave the order to finally live a life for himself. Find someone who made him as happy as Zevran made her... just because they never stood a chance together, didn't mean she couldn't wish him all the happiness and love in the world. Before their circle fell, Cullen had been on of the kindest, most gentle-hearted people she'd ever known. He deserved a second chance to actually live his life.

“I am happy for you, Solona,” he smiled.

Smiling slightly, she removed her hand from his cheek, before lightly grabbing the chain she wore around her neck. Zevran's earring twinkled in her ear, but Cullen's pendant still hung around her neck. He gasped when she tugged it free on her nightdress, instantly recognising it.

“Maker's breath... you still have it?” Cullen whispered, sounding awed.

“I understand if you want it back,” she replied.

To her surprise, Cullen's free hand wrapped her fingers back around the pendant. “No. You keeping it makes me feel like...” He paused to rub the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed. “Like I didn't complete mess things up between us.”

“Cullen...” Solona sighed, though still smiled. “You will always be my first love, nothing will ever change that. And I hope that I will always be able to call you a friend.”

“Of course!” he replied, quickly. “I'm honoured you still think of me so highly... and I feel the same to. I know we'd have never worked; creeping around as we did was foolish and dangerous. But you will always hold a place in my heart, I'm glad you still think of me fondly, after everything.”

“I already to you...”

“I'm getting help,” Cullen quickly interrupted. “I've spoke to Greagoir. I'll be departing for Greenfell directly; they specialise in this sort of... thing.”

Despite her best efforts, Solona's face fell.

“What is it?” he asked, clearly worried. “If I have said something...”

“I was just hoping you'd be there tomorrow,” she explained, trying to smile.

“At... your... wedding?” Cullen stuttered, clearly surprised. “Solona, I'd be honoured. But would your fiancé mind?”

“Her fiancé would be very pleased to have you their, friend.”

Solona glanced up to see Zevran casually lounging against the door jam. The smile he gave her was nothing short of indulgent, and she couldn't help grinning back at him, especially when she realised he hadn't used the word 'friend' ironically; as he often did.

The smile Cullen offered was a little shy but genuine. “Then I'd be delighted to accept.”

 


	86. A New Beginning (Zevran PoV)

The cream silk shirt and green velvet waistcoat felt far too luxurious to Zevran. He was used to leather and cotton, not such finery. He wasn't complaining, far from it, it just felt unusual. But then again, he figured he was just trying to distract himself. He wiggled his toes, thankful they were still surrounded by fine Antivan leather; the boots Solona had so kindly gifted him. However, his gloves were set aside, along with his armour and daggers. In truth, Zevran felt a little naked without them, so had concealed a throwing dagger in his left boot... just in case. Just because it was a happy occasion, didn't mean he shouldn't be on his guard. Of course, the towering Qunari and stout dwarf, both of who had insistently remained in their armour, would no doubt give any would be trouble makers pause. But where Solona's safety was concerned, Zevran wanted to be sure. He'd already witnessed her cry that morning, having laid Riordan to rest, after all, it was their wedding day.

Which was why he was waiting in the small chapel Denerim castle had tucked away. Alistair had found out from maker-knew-who that, as king, he could officiate... so of course, he'd insisted. Solona had readily agreed, and Zevran had nodded his own approval. It wasn't like either him nor his bride believed in the Maker anyway. Regardless, it was the right move. He'd caught a sneak peek of what Alistair had written, and it was incredibly heart-warming. Even sung his praises, much to Zevran's own amusement. But the mirth was wearing off, and he was starting to get nervous. He didn't think Solona would jilt him at the alter, but she might have come to her senses.

A warm hand settled on his shoulder, and he glanced behind him to see Teagan giving him a knowing smile. Since Oghren had appointed himself as security detail, the Bann had offered his services as best man. Though surprised, Zevran had easily accepted. Even if Teagan was arguably more Solona's friend than his, he did like the man, and it was him who'd given him the final push to marry the woman he loved more than life itself.

“She will be here,” Teagan assured. “Isolde was a full hour late to her and Eamon's wedding. I'm sure you can allow Solona a few minutes.”

Taking a calming breath, Zevran nodded, before letting his gaze wander around the small gathering of quests. Both he and Solona had wanted to keep it intimate, and though he was glad of it, he knew Morrigan's presence was missed all the more for it. Astonishingly, Wynne had ask to attend, and though Solona hadn't been keen on the idea, Zevran decided to bury the hatchet. She sat beside Bodahn and Sandal, along with the redheaded circle mage; Petra. Isolde and Connar sat with them as well, as well as Eamon. On another pew sat Solona's Templar; Cullen, along with the Knight-Commander. Anora and Erlina sat beside them, as did Ser Cautherien. Soris, Shianni and Valendrian took up another pew, with Deygan, Cammen and Gheyna squeezed on with them. Yet another was taken up by Wade, Herren and Sergeant Kylon. Even Cesar and Ignacio were there... Zevran bit back a chuckle; Solona certainly knew how to make an eclectic group of friends.

Suddenly, the chapel doors swung open. Cadoc trotted in his, proudly holding his head high, like he knew what a momentous occasion it was. Leliana and Lanaya followed closely behind the mabarir, both women wearing matching ivory gowns; they looked lovely. But the vision behind them stole Zevran's attention. Solona walked in, her arm linked with Irving's, as they made their way towards the alter. For once, her fiery red hair was pinned up from her face. Her eyes made smoky, her lips a deep red to match the garnet velvet gown she wore. For a moment, Zevran forgot how to breathe.

“You're a lucky man, my friend,” Teagan complimented.

Zevran couldn't take his eyes off Solona, even when he whispered: “I know.”

 


	87. Bliss (Amell PoV)

The ceremony was a blur. Solona could barely remember anything passed how tightly Zevran held her hand; almost as if he was frightened she would run away, whilst Alistair spoke. Her de-facto brother's words were surprisingly eloquent as well as touching, not that Solona could really remember them, but she recalled wondering if Anora had helped him write them. The fact Alistair was trying not to cry throughout was hard to forget, and she had a suspicion Oghren had even shed a tear. Bodahn certainly had, as well as Petra, Leliana and Lanaya.

The queen and Erlina had certainly gone to town on the sumptuous feast Anora had insisted on providing, though surprisingly, it had been Isolde who had arranged the wedding cake; Solona wondered if it was the woman's way of apologising for being such a shrew. Zevran had suspiciously thought it might be poisoned, and was adamant on taking the first bite, just to be sure. She'd merely smiled at him indulgently, kissing his cheek when he didn't cough his last breath.

Of course, the first dance went to her new husband. Who'd whispered how in Antivan, dancing was much more exciting. Solona had been intrigued, but they'd stuck to waltzing to the minstrels that Teagan had hired for them; mainly because she'd promised she'd be a willing partner, whenever they got to hear 'real' music... Zevran's words, not hers. Since Irving professed having two left feet, Solona's next dance went to the Bann, who'd twirled her expertly around the floor. She smiled up at him warmly, giggling when he'd pressed an affectionate kiss to her forehead. When a lively jig began to play, it was Soris who grabbed Solona's hand, much to her delight. Leliana was next, followed by Lanaya, and even Connar had shyly asked for a dance. Alistair had been next, then Oghren; who had been surprisingly nimble considering how far into his cups the dwarf was, before Solona had ended up back in Zevran's arms.

She had no idea what time it was, when they had finally bid goodnight to their companions; everything had passed in such a blur. Solona had barely managed to stifle a yawn, as Zevran had helped her out of her gown. He'd trailed kisses along the back of her neck, hands gentle and unhurried as he divested her of the rest of her garments. Solona giggled as Zevran picked her up, bridal style no less, and carried her to the sumptuous four poster bed. He carefully set her on the navy silk sheets, before quickly undressing himself. As always, she watched with rapt attention, even though Zevran didn't make a show as he often would.

In the blink of an eye, he was on the bed with her, Solona's legs readily wrapping around his hips. His evident arousal hot against her core; she was more then ready for him. Their eyes remained on each other, his amber gazed locked on her emerald, as he slowly slid to the hilt. Zevran kissed her then, soft and gentle, before he languidly began to move. One hand tangled in her hair, as his other entwined his fingers with hers. He pressed his forehead to hers, and whispered:

“Te amo, Solona. I love you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are! I can't believe this is yet another of my stories finished! I actually surprised myself with this ending coming so soon, however I think this is a great place to leave Solona and Zevran (at least for now). Rest assured they do appear in the other stories in this series.   
> I just wanted to take the opportunity to thank everyone who has read this story, those of you who joined here on AO3 & those kind enough to fall over from FF.net. Took a few years to get here, so from the bottom of my heart. Thank you.


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